Unsung Heroes
by candoreauthorship
Summary: The galaxy is locked in a brutal three way war. A Mandalorian bounty hunter, a rogue Jedi, a computer slicer and a Black Sun assassin are thrown into the galactic conflict and must fight to survive.
1. Chapter 1

**A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away . . .**

**It is a dangerous time for the galaxy. Rising from the Unknown Regions, the Varrcaran Regime has begun an aggressive conquest of the Outer Rim planets, battling the Republic to a standstill.**

**Amid the conflict, the evil Sith Lords have launched their own series of assaults against both sides, locking the galaxy in a brutal three-way war.**

**TOLA, a computer slicer hired by the Republic, searches the desert planet of Moaz for information that could aid the Republic in their desperate time of need . . .**

Forty-seven seconds.

Tola looked at his chrono. Forty-seven more seconds . . .

According to the Jedi Council, every forty-seven seconds another Jedi was cut down. Since the start of the war, the Varrcaran Regime had developed an armor that nullified Force powers, crippling the Jedi Order's attempts to aid the Republic. All of his intel revealed that the armor was being constructed in this system. Tola's mission was to discover a weakness in that armor, or, if possible, find a way to cease manufacturing of it altogether.

But though he'd been hired by the Republic, Tola didn't answer to their regulations. He would get the job done however he saw fit.

Tola pulled his hood up over his blond hair and exhaled slowly, watching his breath dissipate into the frigid night air. The desert planet of Moaz wasn't exactly a vacation spot—dangerous heats in the daytime and freezing temperatures at night. It was a hard, unforgiving planet much like the Regime that ruled over it.

More than thirty planets had fallen under the control of the Varrcaran Regime, and Tola had seen the devastating effects firsthand. Food and medical supplies were tightly regulated—most snatched up for the war effort. The survivors learned quickly to comply with their demands or become cannon fodder in the Regime's next battle. To help keep the masses in line and fund the war effort, the Regime had seized all blaster weapons, leaving the common citizens powerless to resist the tyranny.

And with the success of their new armor, more and more star systems were suffering the same fate.

Tola forced the thought from his mind. He could stop this here and now. His first objective had already been completed: after slicing into the computer network, he had determined the manufacturing facility's origin point to somewhere in this village—most likely underground.

Typically teams were assigned to a mission of this importance, but Tola insisted on working alone. Being betrayed by his closest friend had taught him not to trust anyone, and that wasn't about to change for the sake of this mission. His record more than spoke for itself, so the Republic had been happy to oblige his request.

It was easier to move behind enemy lines alone, anyway. And with a Varrcaran dreadnought orbiting the planet, the smallest mistake would mean capture or death.

Shuffling through the edge of town, Tola pulled a scanner from his utility belt and checked for seismological readings. Strangely, though, it showed not even a _hint_ of a subterranean building within fifty kilometers . . .

Suddenly a deafening roar engulfed the night. Tola covered his ears just as a concussion missile hit the ground a mere ten meters from his position. The shock wave from the blast leveled three buildings and hurtled him outside the village.

It took a few seconds for Tola to regain control of his senses. Rubbing the sand from his eyes, he looked up and followed the missile's contrail until it disappeared into the night sky.

_What was that!? An orbital strike?_

His ears ringing, Tola picked himself up and ran toward a nearby boulder, huddling behind it just as a second concussion missile detonated in the village. He knew the boulder wouldn't protect him from an explosion, but it could still shield him from the shrapnel.

Slowly the ringing in his ears began to clear, replaced by screams of terror.

Tola's heart throttled as he peeked up from his hiding spot. Two craters lay where the center of the village had once been. Men and women of various species scattered in all directions like ants after their hill had been destroyed.

Off in the distance, Tola saw the soft glow of two thrusters darting across the sky. A sickening feeling within the pit of his stomach formed as he strained his eyes against the blowing sand.

_Varrcaran landing pods!_ Scores of soldiers were coming down to the planet's surface.

_But why? The Regime already controls this world, so why attack?_

A chill ran down his spine. He could only think of one reason.

_Did they find out about my mission?_

The pods flew low over the village remains, rocketing past Tola's position until they touched down at the top of a dune, less than a hundred meters away. The hatch doors lowered, and several ranks of soldiers marched out with the emblem of Varrcara branded across their armor.

Tola didn't think; he simply ran. If he didn't move now, all was lost, both for himself and for the Republic.


	2. Chapter 2

Terrik Ordo knelt at a ridge overlooking the village of Nabareth, surveying the scene from afar. The technology in his Mandalorian helmet augmented his vision and hearing beyond normal means, but so far nothing of interest had drawn his attention.

The scanner in his visor transmitted data to and from the galactic bounty database, automatically identifying certain individuals caught in his gaze. Right now he was tracking a fugitive by the name of Dubion Milnoff, a man who had betrayed Republic secrets when he'd signed up with the Varrcaran Regime. Unfortunately, Dubion had hidden his tracks well thus far.

Terrik sighed. _Looks like I'll have to take a more direct approach._

Tapping one of the buttons on his visual wrist comm, Terrik activated the jetpack built into his white-and-crimson armor and flew to the bottom of the canyon. Without a word he marched into town. A few of the locals saw his approach and darted inside. Ignoring them, he continued his methodical search for the man he was after, eager to collect his bounty and be off this miserable planet.

_There!_

A man exiting the administration building raised a red flag in his T-shaped visor, marking the target for him. Officially he was supposed to rattle off a prepared speech of the crimes Dubion had committed and blah, blah, blah, but Terrik never bothered—it only gave the fugitives a better chance to escape.

He raised the weapon in his hand and fired, shooting off a thick bola to ensnare his target. Dubion didn't even get the chance to react before he was face first in the dirt, tied up and ready to be taken back. Terrik had full authorization to kill this target, but the bounty was worth more alive.

A loud war cry pierced the otherwise silent night. Terrik turned to see a male Iktotchi with a vibrosword charging toward him at full speed.

_No bounties on this one,_ Terrik thought._ Probably just a friend of Dubion's._

Since the ruthless acquisition of blaster weapons and power packs, citizens of this sector had come to rely on melee weapons to defend themselves. Terrik, himself, had one built into his armor, and had fought against them on multiple occasions. This bumbling idiot posed no threat. Telegraphing his movements, the man brought his blade down in a heavy two-handed slash aimed for Terrik's chest.

Crossing his arms in front of him like an X, Terrik caught the vibrosword in the curved blades lining his gauntlets. In one swift motion he yanked his arms apart, cleanly breaking the vibrosword. A look of surprise crossed the man's face just as Terrik's fist smashed into his skull, knocking the Iktotchi out cold.

He swept his gaze around the street. "Any other heroes?" he asked aloud.

No one moved to stop him.

_Good choice._

A second later his sensors detected incoming fire. Terrik wheeled around just as a concussion missile crashed down into the center of the village, detonating on impact. The blast hurled Terrik backward, flinging him into the side of a building. His armor ablated the worst of the impact, but he still felt the air knocked from his lungs. He turned his gaze skyward to see drop pods hurtling toward the town.

_What are they after?_ he wondered. _This lowlife criminal isn't enough to warrant a capital ship in orbit, let alone a full platoon of soldiers._

And then Terrik saw him.

It was an alien: a massive scarlet-colored sentient of the Massassi species. Over two meters tall and heavily muscled, the hulking brute picked himself up and caught Terrik's gaze. With a snarl he retrieved the lightwhip at his side and activated the yellow blade, filling the air with a vibrational hiss.

Terrik's visor recognized him immediately, attaching the name _Dextanic_ to his profile, more commonly referred to as simply _Dex_. He was a Force user, a known affiliate of the Sith. Worse, the database had on record that he was what the media had come to call a _Biomod_. Biomods were the result of a Sith experiment to genetically enhance Force-Sensitives, an attempt at creating super soldiers. Of the two-hundred original test subjects, thirty-eight had survived the process, heightening their Force abilities. But those who survived were left with shattered minds, pushed past the brink of insanity. The Biomods had rebelled, destroying the Sith laboratory before fleeing in different directions, subsequently earning the highest price of any individuals wanted by the Sith _and_ the Varrcaran Regime. Since then, an estimated fifteen had been slain—two of them by Terrik's own hand.

Pain spiked in his forehead, and he felt his anger rise. It was clear the Regime was after Dex, and Terrik knew they'd kill anyone they had to to accomplish that mission. The smart decision was to get clear.

But Terrik couldn't refuse the opportunity to put another Force user down permanently. He had lost four of his clan brothers to a group of Sith, and very nearly his own life. Left for dead, the only thing that had saved him was the regenerative cybernetic implant in his head. For the honor of his clan brothers he had sworn to kill any Force-Sensitives who crossed his path again.

Rising to his feet, Terrik retrieved the blaster assault rifle at his side. He had no intention of using nonlethal tactics against a Force-Sensitive. This wasn't business anymore; it was personal.

Another concussion missile exploded behind Dex, but neither warrior seemed to notice. Amid the panicked citizens and destruction, their eyes were locked solely on each other.


	3. Chapter 3

Tola hurdled the boulder he had been hiding behind and sprinted through what was left of the town. Chaos engulfed the area. The buildings that still stood were vacated, and sand from the blasts coated the village like a thin golden blanket.

Tola joined the masses as they ran, all thoughts of completing his mission ebbing from his mind. Somehow the Regime had found him; all he could do now was survive.

There was no general flow in the attempted escape, causing many to be knocked down and trampled. But all were moving—except for two beings on the edge of town.

One of them was an scarlet-colored alien—a Massassi, Tola believed—holding a lightwhip. The other wore full Mandalorian armor, a bounty hunter most likely. These two stared each other down, oblivious to the people escaping around them, like two great trees in the eye of a tornado, unmoving and proud.

Tola pushed past them, heading for his ship less than a kilometer outside the village. Without warning, an intense air pressure knocked him to his hands and knees, followed by the roar of jet engines. Tola looked up and saw another landing pod fly by him, only ten meters above his head.

_You've got to be kidding me! How many troops did they send?!_

The pod landed at the top of a sand dune and more soldiers marched out, creating a perimeter around the town. Tola kept his eyes straight ahead, locked on his ship. He was nearly there when another concussion missile rained down on top of it, detonating his ship in a plume of orange fire. Horrified, Tola realized he had nowhere to go but back into town.

_I feel like a fish in a barrel . . ._

A blood-curdling scream suddenly caught his attention. Looking down a small hill, he saw a young woman on the ground, backing up as quickly as she could from an advancing soldier.

Tola stopped in his tracks. He needed to escape, but he couldn't just let a defenseless woman be murdered. Yet Tola was the furthest thing from a warrior—it would be suicide for him to face the trooper head on. He had to think of something fast.

Craning his head, Tola looked for anything that might help. An abandoned wagon sat dormant by one of the shops. Tola sprinted to it and aimed it at the soldier. Then he dug into his utility belt and pulled out a lighter he normally used for campfires.

The wagon lit easily in the dry desert air, and the flames spread quickly, devouring the synthwood like a starved creature. Running to the back of the wagon where the fire hadn't reached yet, Tola slammed his shoulder against the decayed wood.

_Here goes nothing._

The wagon groaned as the decrepit wheels turned. Slowly it picked up speed until it raced down the hill. Tola watched in horror as the soldier raised his rifle, aiming it at the defenseless woman before him. Then his index finger slid off the handle and reached for the trigger.


	4. Chapter 4

Chains.

When Dex gazed at the Mandalorian warrior, that was all he saw—the return to imprisonment and slavery. He'd seen this bounty hunter bind one of the locals, and Dex wasn't about to let the same happen to him.

Fresh rage swelled within his body, willing him to fight. Dex took the lightwhip from his belt and activated it, the yellow blade crackling to life. In response, the armored figure retrieved a blaster assault rifle from his side, but not fast enough. Dex's latent Force abilities had been amplified by the torturous experiments, and he intended to unleash them fully, starting with a sound suppressing bubble around his enemy.

Rumors had spread that all survivors of the Biomod experiment were little more than raving lunatics, when in reality only about half had lost grip on their sanity. Dex was still plenty lucid, and in the years since that fateful day he had learned to harness the Force powers his altered genes had given him.

Before the Mandalorian could bring his rifle up to bear, Dex launched himself into the air and reached out with the dark side of the Force, projecting illusions into the mind of his foe. The armored warrior fired, spraying a volley of blaster bolts that still narrowly missed Dex in spite of his manipulated sight.

The hulking Massassi landed only a meter in front of his human adversary and lashed out with his lightwhip. The armored figure tried to evade, but he misjudged the erratic trajectory of the weapon. The whip cracked against his exposed midsection, searing a black scorch mark across his crimson-and-white breastplate.

Dex smiled. Few knew how to defend against his weapon of choice.

The warrior dropped to one knee, but he was still alive. Mandalorian armor was highly valued for its ability to resist lightsabers, but Dex doubted it would protect from a second slash.

Moving in for the kill, Dex raised his whip against his battered opponent. To his surprise, the Mandalorian managed to roll to the side, evading the strike even as he raised his rifle once more. This time he fired from the mounted grenade launcher beneath the main barrel.

Dex was too stunned to move out of the way. This man would rather kill them both than fall to a superior foe. But the hallucinations still afflicted his mind. The shot went wide, and Dex heard a thunderous explosion behind him. Instinctively he glanced back. The grenade had detonated in a group of six Varrcaran soldiers, killing them all instantly.

With Force-augmented speed, Dex reached out his free hand and ripped the rifle from the warrior's grasp, disarming him.

Or so he thought.

Two retractable, serrated blades sprang from the Mandalorian's right wrist. In one quick swipe he carved two traces across the muscles of Dex's left bicep. Dex roared in fury as the rifle fell from his grasp. He lashed out with his lightwhip again, but never saw whether it hit or missed—a heavy blow struck him on the back of the head.

Dex toppled to the ground, and in that moment he realized he'd fallen victim to his own power; the sound bubble created around his adversary had nullified his own hearing when he'd gotten too close—allowing the Varrcarans to sneak behind him undetected.

The last words Dextanic heard were: "Lock this one up. We need him alive."

Then his world faded to black.


	5. Chapter 5

_How did I get myself into this mess?_ Loralona thought, her heart pounding as a Varrcaran soldier aimed his rifle at her. Desperately she scrambled away, but from her supine position, she wasn't fast enough. Sand had already clogged her blaster pistol, leaving her all but defenseless.

The faint shadow of the soldier's face was barely recognizable through the thick visor on his helmet. A merciless grin flashed across his scarred face, and in that moment, despair transformed into determination, welling up deep within her. She may be just another kill in his eyes, but she wouldn't go down easily. Defiantly she reached for the combat knife hidden in her boot.

Without warning, a fiery wagon blasted into the soldier, causing his weapon to discharge harmlessly into the air as it pinning him against a building. The warrior managed a short scream before his life passed.

Springing to her feet, Loralona whirled around, knife in hand, ready to defend herself. But all she saw was a lone man at the top of a hill with his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. He was of average height and weight, wearing a hooded cloak, a gray shirt, and a utility belt, but he didn't appear to have any weapons. A wave of irony washed over her as she recognized his face. The dangerous man Black Sun had sent her to assassinate was the very man who had saved her: Tola.

He flashed an awkward grin and a goofy wave.

Loralona nearly waved back, but stopped her hand halfway up.

_I can't think of him like that. He's still the target, whether he saved me or not._

Then she saw them. Five soldiers crested the hill directly behind her defender. Before she could do anything, All five troopers shot the young man with stun rifles, knocking him unconscious.

Loralona grimaced. It was too late. She wouldn't be able to accomplish her mission. Not yet, at least. Escape was her only hope now.

Scooping up her fallen satchel, Loralona slipped past the burning carriage and into a narrow alleyway between two buildings. Garbed in all black, she disappeared into the shadows, trusting in her stealth training as the deadly ring of soldiers collected what they had come for. Once the enemy had passed, she stole one last glance at the burning town, then darted into the cold desert night.

_Tola . . . We're not done yet._


	6. Chapter 6

Terrik woke with a pounding headache. The last thing he remembered was the butt of a rifle smashing into his skull.

Cautiously Terrik levered himself up on his elbows and took in his surroundings. The room was dark, but a red light cast from the perpendicular hallway still illuminated the durasteel bars of his cell. Inside was a toilet and nothing else. Looking down, he saw that he had been stripped of his armor and weapons. Terrik clenched his teeth. To a Mandalorian, nothing was more shameful.

He wasn't worried about his injuries; the regenerative cybernetic implant in his head would repair most of the damage, but it wouldn't mean a thing if he couldn't escape this cell. Rising to his feet, Terrik walked over to the bars and stuck his head out. The flickering red bulb hovered over an airlock.

_So I'm in space,_ he thought. _Probably on one of the dreadnoughts that orbited the planet._

Though it had been an accident, he had killed several Varrcaran soldiers, a crime for which he would be executed. Terrik knew the Regime's policy well: there would be no second chances, no appeals. He was tried and convicted already. All that remained was the executioner . . . and a crowd to witness what would happen to those who crossed the Regime.

In a cell across the hall, Terrik spotted a hooded figure sitting with his legs crossed, drumming his fingers together. From the looks of things, he was planning an escape as well.

_Let's hope he's doing better than I am._

A metal door opened with a loud creak, and two prison guards walked into the hall, looking over their new captives.

One of the guards spoke to his partner so quietly Terrik had to strain to hear him.

"I heard we caught another Sith today."

The second guard nodded. "We made sure they're being held far away from each other. This one isn't half as bad as Janus, but it still makes me nervous having them on board."

"Why can't we just kill them now and be done with it? They're slated for execution, anyway."

"You know the Overlord. Wants to make an example out of them."

As they walked past his cell, Terrik noticed a keycard tucked into the first guard's belt, but he was too far away to reach it.

Both soldiers stopped in front of the hooded figure's cell.

"The commander will see you now," one of them said gruffly.

The other soldier opened the electronic locks with a swipe of his keycard. The hooded figure rose, and they placed a pair of stun cuffs on his wrist.

"Move, convict," they said, shoving his back.

As they left, the hooded man gave a tiny nod to Terrik. Though they had never met before, he knew the implication: Something was about to go down.


	7. Chapter 7

Tola watched quietly as the Varrcaran soldiers dragged a motionless figure into the cell across the hall. The lighting was dim, but he was still able to recognize the armor; it belonged to the bounty hunter he had seen battling in town. The soldiers stripped the unconscious human of his armor and weapons, then sealed the bars behind them.

Things were looking grim, but sometimes a bad situation could be turned into an advantageous one. He hadn't discovered the location of the factory on Moaz, but computer files aboard the ship might just have the coordinates he was searching for. A simple message to the Republic could get a fleet here within hours, and the facility would still be destroyed, and his mission a success.

Of course, he would have to get free first.

Tola already had a plan in motion. Earlier he had told the commander that he had valuable information involving the whereabouts of a Jedi strike team sent by the Republic. At first the commander simply laughed. But Tola knew his type—a young upstart trying to claw his way up the ranks. Eventually he would check the datapad he'd confiscated from Tola. False information had been entered into it ahead of time with a brief outline of the supposed Jedi strike force and their mission. However, the system they were infiltrating was purposefully left out. Now it was only a matter of time before the commander took the bait.

But Tola also knew he couldn't do this alone. He needed someone tough anyone to handle the Varrcaran soldiers. The bounty hunter fit the bill, and more importantly, Tola knew what cell he was in.

The troopers left the cell block, only to return after a few hours. Tola strained his ears to overhear their conversation, but it was no use. As they reached his cell, one of the guards spoke to him.

"The commander will see you now."

Tola stood up and waited as the two soldiers slapped a pair of binder cuffs on him. They prodded him out of the cell, and as he passed by, Tola gave the bounty hunter a slight nod, hoping he understood the message.

The entire plan hinged on the soldiers marching him to the bridge. Not because of the destination itself, but because of the route they would take. If this was anything like the last dreadnought Tola was on, they would pass right by the room he needed.

Tola's heart skipped a beat when he saw the familiar path he had mapped in his head. A bead of sweat ran down his brow and adrenaline coursed through his veins. Carefully watching the two soldiers, Tola waited for his chance.

It came as soon as the soldier on his right started to ask his companion a question. Once the first word came out, Tola made his move. Taking a deep breath, he swung his cuffed hands, clubbing the nearest trooper. The enemy stumbled back and fell to the ground. He was down, but not out. Before the other warrior could react, Tola ducked into the room to his left. He punched the panel on the wall, slamming the door shut behind him with a metallic hiss.

"Do you think that's going to save you?" one of the soldiers shouted, pounding on the door. "It's only a matter of time before we pry you out of there. Then I'll shoot you myself!"

Ignoring the man's ravings, Tola smiled and rubbed his hands together. The cell block control room stretched before him.

_Perfect . . ._

Tola rushed to the terminal, and pulled up surveillance. Just outside his room the two soldiers were tinkering with the door. Tola's bound hands flew over the keyboard as fast as they could, pulling up the self-defense system in the hall. He put the setting on stun and watched as the two soldiers were taken down by a security blaster protruding from the wall.

Breathing a sigh of relief, he began phase two of his plan.

Tola sliced into the camera feed on the rest of the ship. The bounty hunter knelt close to his cell door.

_Looks like he got the message. _

Tola continued leafing through the feeds until he found something else—something he hadn't counted on. A lone cell block centered in the middle of a white room. Inside was the huge Massassi he had seen in town.

Tola stretched his hands as far apart as the binder cuffs would allow, and pounded the keyboard. As he hit the enter button, the entire cell block went black, all except his terminal screen and the surveillance cameras, which he switched over to infrared. With a few more strokes of the keyboard, he overrode the locks on both the alien's and the bounty hunter's cells. Then, Tola manually powered up the lights he wanted, creating a beacon for them to follow.

Sometimes the best answer to a desperate situation was simply to create chaos. A satisfied smile curled at the edges of his mouth.

_I've unleashed the beasts. Now to find that base. _


	8. Chapter 8

Terrik was ready the moment his cell door slid open. Several quick strides took him out of the cell and into the adjacent hallway. The corridor was well-lit, its metallic gray walls gleaming beneath the series of running lights overhead. Written in large bold letters were the words: _Black Scourge_.

_Must be the name of the ship._

Unfortunately, Terrik didn't know the layout of Varrcaran vessels at all, but his first objective was to retrieve his armor. To him it was more than just protective gear; it was a part of who he was and the warrior culture he hailed from.

Suddenly klaxons began to blare, warning the rest of the vessel that hostiles were loose. Terrik clenched his teeth together, wishing desperately that he had a weapon. Moments later he heard the heavy tread of footsteps approaching. Glancing to either side, he searched for a chamber to duck into, but the corridor was long and bare.

There was nowhere for him to go.

_If I'm going down, I'm at least going down fighting,_ he thought grimly.

Just as the security guards rounded the corner, the lights winked and flickered out, most likely the result of the hooded figure's tampering. Surprised murmurs emanated from the troopers, and Terrik fell upon them like a cornered animal.

Unlike most soldiers, Terrik was used to fighting in the dark. In one clean motion he broke the closest guard's neck, took the assault rifle from her lifeless hands, and gunned down the other three troopers.

The entire encounter took less than four seconds. Looking over his fallen enemies, he found the one closest to his size and donned the man's light gray battle armor. It wasn't nearly as advanced as his Mandalorian design, but it should serve to let him pass unhindered . . . as long as no one recognized his face behind the visor.

The lights powered back on, and Terrik nodded to the security camera in the upper corner of the room. A second later the door in front of him unlocked, allowing him clear passage to move about the vessel.

It had been some time since he'd been aboard a battle cruiser—he'd forgotten just how massive they really were. Most chambers rose upwards of twenty meters, and extended from end to end by thirty or forty. It was like being in a small utilitarian city.

Terrik shook his head. This was no time to gawk. Even if he reclaimed his armor and weapons, he still had to find a way off the _Scourge_, and that wouldn't be easy, especially with the alarms ringing. Though he hated to admit it, he would probably need the computer slicer's help—if he could find him.

The following door slid open, revealing an empty mess hall, and Terrik suddenly realized it could take hours, possibly even days to search every chamber within the dreadnought. But no matter how long it took, he was going to get his armor back.

Even if he had to tear the entire ship apart to do it.


	9. Chapter 9

Imprisoned again. Dex couldn't believe his luck. After all the torture and empty promises from the Sith, now, apparently, it was the Regime's turn.

Dex's hand clenched into a fist, but while he was contained within a Universal Energy Cage, he couldn't draw upon the Force to free himself. There was nothing he could do.

And then, almost as if he had wished it into reality, the repulsor field deactivated and his cell door unlocked. Dex could hardly believe his eyes. For a second he simply sat there, stunned. Then a grim smile played on his lips and he rose to his full two-hundred-and-twenty centimeter height.

His lightwhip was gone but he didn't need that to survive. The Force had given him a second chance at vengeance, and he was going to make sure that all of Varrcara knew it. Walking out of his cell, he scraped his red-skinned hand across the wall below the words: _Black Scourge_.

Dex summoned the power of the dark side, drawing upon his rage and fury until it swirled within him like a tempest, begging to be unleashed. Alarms bellowed through the ship, but Dex welcomed the sound; it would only draw his enemies toward him.

The door to his right slid open of its own volition—no one was waiting on the other side. Dex peered up at the security camera in the corner of the room and realized what was happening: someone was trying to guide his path.

Dex snorted. How stupid did they think he was? Turning the opposite way, the Massassi marched up to the door on the other side of the hall and placed his palm against the center of the frame. Channeling the dark side, he agitated the molecules of the metal to the point of combustion. The door blew off its hinges and sailed outward from Dex's hand until it struck the far wall, detonating on impact.

Tremors pulsed through the _Scourge_ from his violent entrance but he paid them no heed. The ship would suffer more than that by the time he was done. Standing in a small hangar bay, Dextanic watched with a smile as the door to his right slid open. Three soldiers, drawn by the explosion, entered with their weapons raised.

Fury and adrenaline pulsed through Dex's veins. With a Force-powered leap, he bounded high into the air, channeling the dark side as he did. Dark hallucinations entered the mind of the middle soldier, clouding his vision with the notion that his friends were demons. The already panicking trooper screamed and fired at the man on his right, killing him instantly. Before he could turn to mow down the other one, the third soldier ended his life with a point-blank shot to the back.

All this took place in the span of five heartbeats. Just as the second soldier died, Dex landed next to the survivor and wrapped his enormous hand around the man's throat. All the trooper could manage was a gasp before Dex hurled him like a spear at one of the docked starfighters. The soldier smashed into the ship hard enough to warp the durasteel, putting him down for good.

The _Scourge's_ lights flickered, then shut down altogether. Dex wondered if he'd accidentally hit a fuse box, but in the next second the emergency lighting activated and the PA system crackled to life. An automated voice called out: "Warning! Life support systems have been deactivated. Four hours of breathable air remain."

Dex called the nearest blaster pistol to his waiting palm and headed for the exit. The news didn't frighten him in the slightest. In four hours' time he would have the ship torn apart. The Regime had no idea who it was messing with.

But it was about to find out.


	10. Chapter 10

p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in;"span style="color: #000000;"A lopsided grin curled across Tola's lips as he watched the events unfolding through the infrared security cameras. Things were going better than he could have hoped: both the bounty hunter and the Massassi were making a move, and a path of bodies lay in their wake./span/p  
>p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in;"span style="color: #000000;"emNow I'd better work on finding the factory installation.em/span/p  
>p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in;"span style="color: #000000;"He opened an emergency supplies footlocker and found a fusion cutter, a datapad, a glowrod, and a vibrodagger inside. Tola took all four objects, using the fusion cutter first to burn through his cuffs, freeing his hands to work more quickly. span/p  
>p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in;"span style="color: #000000;"The console he was working from didn't have the files he needed, but it was hooked into a central computer network with the rest of the ship. Tola smiled; that was a lucky break indeed. Normally capital ships were designed for each console to be operated independently, hooked into various relays to remove functionality if something went wrong. The Varrcarans were either arrogant or foolish to believe that wouldn't be a problem. span/p  
>p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in;"span style="color: #000000;"emAmateurs.em/span/p  
>p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in;"span style="color: #000000;"Slicing into the network was a breeze. Tola scoured the files as quickly as he could, looking for any reference to the facility manufacturing the Force-immune armor on the planet below. His search field brought up exactly what he was hoping for, and Tola accessed the classified document. span/p  
>p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in;"span style="color: #000000;"He sighed as he read over the material. The information the Republic had given him, and even what he'd gathered on his own, had all been fake. Locations of dummy factories across the galaxy were all that this dreadnought contained. The real facility was still a secret, probably classified at the highest level. span/p  
>p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in;"span style="color: #000000;"emThat explains why the Varrcarans didn't hesitate to fire on the planet below; there's nothing there.em/span/p  
>p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in;"span style="color: #000000;"Tola frowned; the Republic wouldn't send a fleet without the target they were looking for—which meant Tola would have to find a way off the dreadnought himself. He still hadn't given up hope of finding the true factory of the Force-immune armor, though. Plugging the datapad into the computer, Tola began to copy all of the computer files to it so he could sift through them in greater detail later. Perhaps somewhere there was a clue as to where the base might be.span/p  
>p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in;"span style="color: #000000;"One of the monitors displaying security feeds caught his attention. The alien was ignoring the path Tola had laid out for him. He was using some sort of power to destroy each door Tola sealed. At this rate, he would be nearing the cell block control room any minute. An enraged alien with the dark side of the Force was the last thing Tola wanted knocking on his door.span/p  
>p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in;"span style="color: #000000;"A prompt popped up on the terminal screen, warning Tola of a computer specialist on the command bridge who was trying to override him. Tola grinned as he watched the man work through the security feed.span/p  
>p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in;"span style="color: #000000;"emYou're going to have to do better than that.em/span/p  
>p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in;"span style="color: #000000;"Unable to tear down the firewall, the specialist looked at the commander and Tola heard the words: "Someone's sliced the network—I can't regain control, sir."span/p  
>p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in;"span style="color: #000000;"The commander nodded and then spoke into his comlink. "Jenshi, code brown. I repeat, code brown."span/p  
>p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in;"span style="color: #000000;"emWhat is code brown?em/span/p  
>p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in;"span style="color: #000000;"Tola flipped through the camera feeds in rapid succession. But he was too late; just as he switched to the engine room, he saw someone disconnecting a series of wires.span/p  
>p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in;"span style="color: #000000;"The ship's engines died abruptly, leaving them trapped in Moaz's orbit. Tola leaned back in his chair, somewhat relieved it hadn't been worse; he didn't want them to leave the system anyway . . .span/p  
>p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in;"span style="color: #000000;"A glance at the surveillance panel startled him. Someone's face was hovering within centimeters of one of the cameras. It was the commander on the bridge. His unwavering gray eyes seemed to sear into Tola as if he were standing right in front of him.span/p  
>p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in;"span style="color: #000000;""Whoever you are . . . we are ready to die for our cause. Are you?" he said firmly.span/p  
>p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in;"span style="color: #000000;"And then, as if the commander had planned it to punctuate his point, the ship's automated voice kicked in.span/p  
>p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in;""Warning! Life support systems have been deactivated. Four hours of breathable air remain."p 


	11. Chapter 11

Emergency klaxons blared through the ship, warning them they only had four hours of breathable air left. Terrik stopped in his tracks and set his armor's chrono to count down the time remaining. Varrcarans were nothing if not arrogant; most likely they had never even considered prisoners escaping aboard one of their capital ships. The threat was most likely a bluff, but it showed how desperate they'd become.

Terrik moved through the _Black Scourge_ with a sense of purpose, marching with the military obedience and diligence of a true soldier. With each chamber he entered he made a mental note of its purpose and direction, memorizing the layout as best as he could.

Two officers entered his field of vision, traveling the opposite direction. Terrik kept walking as though he was on a mission, neither looking at them or away from them.

"You! You're not supposed to be here!" one of the officers yelled.

Terrik's heart skipped a beat. Nervous sweat trickled down his shoulder blades, and it took all of his willpower not to raise his rifle and open fire.

"What do you mean?" he asked instead.

"No personnel is allowed beyond this point until the situation has been neutralized. One of the Sith is loose, and he's tearing up the place."

"What's he look like?" Terrik asked.

"About two meters tall, broad shouldered, pale skin."

"Wait—did you say pale skin?"

"Yeah. Why? Have you seen him?" The officer looked hopeful.

"No. I haven't."

_So, it's not Dex they're after. That means another Sith is on board, running loose. That explains some of their desperation._

"Assassin droids have been sent to detain him," the officer continued, oblivious to his thoughts. "Where were you headed?"

Terrik paused a moment, considering his options. Then he decided on a gamble. "I recognized the bounty hunter that was brought on board. Someone let him out of his cell. I was hoping to beat him to his armor and weapons so I could lay a trap."

The officer rubbed his chin. "Hmm. Normally I would reprimand such insubordination, but we're short-handed and we don't need another fugitive on the loose. Very well. Carry on, soldier."

"Yes, sir."


	12. Chapter 12

Dex smiled from his perch on the upper catwalk. Most Varrcarans knew the futility of attacking a Jedi or Sith with blaster bolts. As such, most were trained with melee weapons lined with cortosis specifically to resist lightsabers, and these soldiers were no exception. That suited Dex just fine; he preferred to engage his enemy up close and personal, anyway.

Dampening the sound waves surrounding a lone soldier, Dex jumped down from the catwalk and landed silently behind him, snapping his neck with one wrench of his massive hands. He picked up the man's vibroblade just as the other three soldiers turned to face him. Dex had extensive training with a lightwhip, but he had often practiced with a lightsaber as well, giving him more than a fighting chance against the three soldiers bearing down on him.

Never one for the defensive, Dex lunged forward, bringing his vibroblade hacking down in a powerful two-handed chop. Utilizing the techniques of Djem So, Dex used his size and muscular physique to his advantage, striking with savage blows. The first soldier made the mistake of trying to block, but his strength was no match for the Massassi's. Dex's vibroblade tore through the other man's weapon, and killed him instantly.

Using the Force, Dex pivoted to the side faster than the other two could react, evading their clumsy blows. Dex swooped in and stuck with an ascending diagonal slash. The force of his strike batted the second soldier into the third, bowling them over into a crumpled heap. Before the final trooper could recover, Dex plunged his sword into them both, delivering the coup de grace.

With the hostiles eliminated, Dex turned his attention back to his surroundings. Two rooms branched out from the barracks he was in. Picking the one on his right, Dex entered a small medical chamber.

Images flashed through his mind of the experiments the Sith had put him through, both before and after the procedure that had forever altered his genetic code. Determined to forge him into a weapon of destruction, Dex had been forced to train under a Sith Lord named Darth Jadus to develop his genetically augmented Force abilities. A mountain of a man, Jadus was, by far, the most cruel and sadistic person he had ever met. One fateful day the Sith Lord had ordered Dex to strike down a mother in front of her son. When Dex refused to do so, Jadus had flown into a rage, mercilessly beating Dex to a pulp with his bare hands. Just before he'd imprisoned Dex, Jadus had whispered into his ear.

"Don't die, alien. I still need time to cut out your pitiful hope and your mercy."

For years Dex had endured unbearable torture. Fate had given him a second chance, however. Jezebel, one of the other lucid Bionics, had sprung him free, piloting him away from the Sith's influence only six months ago. In all Dex's life, she had been the only one who had ever shown him kindness.

Dex clenched his teeth and drove out the memory. He was on a time crunch.

Turning to the other door, Dex wasn't surprised to find it locked. Drawing upon the dark side, he blew the door off its hinges and stepped into one of the control rooms.

A man in a hooded cloak stood at the computers, his hands raised into the air at Dex's approach. He was about a hundred-and-eighty centimeters tall, with a slim build, blond hair, and hazel eyes. Dex suppressed the instinct to attack—clearly this man wasn't with the Varrcarans.

"I was the one who released you," the hooded figure claimed. "And with your help, I think I've found a way off this ship."


	13. Chapter 13

"I was the one who released you," Tola said quickly, "and with your help, I think I've found a way off this ship."

This was exactly what Tola had hoped to avoid. He tried his best, sealing off doors that led to the control room. But the alien insisted on blowing through every barrier Tola put up. Now he was staring up into the eyes of a giant Massassi that proved to be more powerful than he ever could have expected—and from watching him on the security cameras—even more merciless.

The alien seared Tola with unmoving feral eyes, but he hesitated, choosing not to kill him instantly like he did with the Varrcaran soldiers.

"If you'd just look at the computer screen," Tola said, careful to keep his hands visible and non-threatening. The Massassi didn't say a word, but he humored Tola by looking.

Tola flopped into the chair and pulled up the camera feeds. "This is the engine room. The life support was shut off there. I can't override it because they physically pulled some key components."

Tola looked warily over his shoulder. The alien had stepped forward two meters, but he remained attentive to the computer. The hardest part was over: making the brute listen. Now all he had to do was sell him the plan.

_Good, the ball's in my court._

"This is the door directly outside the engine room."

The Massassi said his first words: "It looks like seventy soldiers standing guard."

"Seventy-nine, actually," Tola corrected, flipping through the camera feeds again. "But the bridge has only eight guards patrolling."

Tola paused, hoping the alien would say something. It was much easier to sell a plan to someone who thought they came up with half of it. But the brute remained still, his expressions unreadable.

"This is where you come in," Tola said, fidgeting slightly as he stood from his chair to face the Massassi. "I think we should storm the bridge and take the commander captive. We could force him to order the life support restored, or we could use him as a hostage to get past the soldiers and commandeer one of the shuttles."

"Go where they least expect it," the brute replied.

"Exactly," Tola said with a smile. From the sounds of it, he had won over the alien to his plan.

"I don't like it; I'd rather kill the seventy-nine Varrcaran soldiers."

Tola was at a loss for words. He had always been a smooth talker, but this Massassi didn't think logically. He just wanted to mow through as many enemies as he could. Tola began to feel uncomfortable, hoping that he wasn't next on that list.

Suddenly the alien's eyes flicked to the computer screen over Tola's shoulder, transforming his expression completely. Tola turned to see what he was looking at, but was too late. Whatever the Massassi had seen must have moved because the security feed was motionless now.

Turning back to the brute, Tola saw a terrifying smile stretch across his lips, and a chill swept down his spine.

"On second thought, I'm starting to like your plan more. How do we get there?"

Tola was baffled, but he didn't feel like pushing his luck and asking the alien what he had seen. Walking to the far corner of the room, he turned a hatch and opened the emergency escape door. Inside was a cramped fire escape ladder running the height and depth of the ship.

"This oughtta do."


	14. Chapter 14

As he relentlessly scoured the capital ship, Terrik was surprised by the lack of soldiers and personnel. The _Black Scourge_ was eerily quiet, especially considering the ship was on lockdown. It was almost as if something had happened to the crew, and he was the sole survivor . . .

The hooded figure was no longer helping him in his passage—doors remained closed as he approached, leaving him to guess where his armor could be. Either the mysterious helper had been captured, or, more likely, he had left the detention block control room in search of a way to bypass the lockdown.

Terrik checked his chrono: Three hours and twenty-eight minutes of air remaining.

One by one he searched the various rooms spiraling off the main hallway, but none offered him any clues as to where his armor might be. Frustrated, he found a computer terminal and booted it up. The entire network was encrypted, and he didn't have any idea how to circumvent the firewall.

_Looks like I'll be doing this the old fashioned way._

Clenching his teeth together, Terrik pressed forward, tearing through chamber after chamber, wondering how he would manage to escape once he found what he was looking for.

Suddenly he stopped. He heard the heavy tread of footsteps approaching. Only these were louder, clunkier, like—

Like assassin droids.

The officer had told him assassin droids were dispatched to handle the fugitives, and their auto-recognition systems would see right through his Varrcaran armor.

An instant later, both droids wandered into view, heavily armed and armored. Terrik recognized them as models of the HK series—higher grade combat droids that could achieve their goals creatively and independently once assigned.

Knowing his blaster rifle couldn't pierce their heavy combat chassis, Terrik took off down the hall. He heard the droids sprinting after him, and cursed himself a fool; he'd never be able to outrun the machines.

Ducking into the nearest room, Terrik found himself in a supply closet with only seconds to prepare an ambush.


	15. Chapter 15

Loralona hid as best as she could behind a large boulder, but the three moons that orbited the planet Moaz made finding the shadows difficult. It had been a full day since the attack on the village—since the very man whom she was sent to detain had saved her life. He didn't seem to be the monster her superiors had portrayed him as. But nevertheless, she had to find him—first to thank him, and second to fulfill her duties. She had sworn an oath to Black Sun, and to Loralona, her word—which was rarely given—was her bond.

From her position, Loralona overlooked a large valley with a rock cliff lining the far end. Squinting, she was able to see her ship, nestled under one of the rock formations jutting out from the bluff.

_It can't be . . ._

A squad of Varrcaran soldiers crawled all over her ship like ants on a discarded apple core. They had disassembled half the ship already, picking her vessel dry.

Loralona sat down with her back against the boulder. An insatiable fire burned within her.

Varrcaran ideals held to order through relentless might, no matter the cost. Loralona didn't like that. Her freedom was too important to her, and if there was one thing the Regime was good at, it was stripping people of their freedom.

Flashbacks of her childhood danced through her mind, but Loralona forced the thoughts from her brain. Balling up two handfuls of sand, she squeezed until the fire inside her faintly subsided. The first thing she had learned during her training in Black Sun was that the fire, the anger toward the established order, was not a bad thing. In fact it was the most important trait of a Black Sun operative. But it had to be controlled—driving passion without blinding rage.

Once Loralona regained control of her fury, she peeked over the boulder again. Peering into the moonlit night, she observed the situation through cold, deadened eyes.

The squad was made up of six soldiers. Two, armed with blaster rifles, walked a perimeter. The other four were armed with vibroswords and split their duties—two starting a fire, and the other two exploiting her ship.

Loralona let out a breath, watching it float leisurely into the air and dissipating into the light of one of the moons. Whatever she decided to do, she had to do it soon. The temperature was dropping fast and if she was caught in the middle of the desert overnight, she would freeze to death.

Setting her jaw, Loralona darted from her cover. Her only way off the planet was her ship, the _Coming Storm_. It could take days to put it back together herself—if she could figure out how—but it would provide shelter from the planet's harsh conditions in the meantime. Careful to run from boulder to boulder, she covertly approached the squad. A calm resolve washed over her. This was exactly what she was trained to do.


	16. Chapter 16

Tola collapsed onto the ground. After climbing twenty-seven floors on the fire escape, he was exhausted. The alien looked down at him and waved impatiently.

"Hurry up, human."

Tola rolled to one knee. "My name's Tola. I figure since we're working together, it might be good to know each other's names."

The Massassi turned his back to Tola and marched down the corridor.

_Chatty fellow . . . I guess I'll have to keep calling him alien for now._

Tola pushed to his feet and ran to catch up, his legs feeling like jelly. He was still surprised that the alien had decided to go along with his plan. But it didn't set his mind at ease. If anything, he was watching the brute more closely now.

"Where is the command bridge, human?" the Massassi said, pausing at a four-way intersection in the hallway.

"Take a left here, then it should be at the far end of the corridor, about two hundred meters," Tola replied, taking a quick glance around the corner. "We're in luck, I don't see any soldiers."

Suddenly, Tola heard a loud humming sound like a million swarming bees. The sound slowly trailed off and the lights flickered once, then shut down completely. Moments later red emergency lights flashed in the corners of the hallways once every ten seconds.

"They've turned off the power," Tola murmured, more to himself than to the alien.

_But why? What purpose would the Varrcarans have for shutting down the main power?_

Turning to the Massassi, Tola took a moment to collect himself. The strobe effect casting a crimson hue on the hulking creature made him look utterly terrifying—as if he wasn't scary enough already.

"Don't worry, I have a light," Tola said, reaching to the inner linings of his coat. He had grabbed a miniature glowrod in the detention block control room along with a small vibrodagger he kept up his left sleeve. Clicking the light on, he pointed it down the hallway.

"Don't need it," the alien replied, pushing past Tola and walking into the darkness.

Tola shook his head and followed close behind. As they traveled farther into the corridor, Tola noticed a table overturned. Three chairs lay on their side and a forth was splintered completely. Crackling sounded at their feet and Tola pointed his glowrod down to see shattered transparisteel blanketing the floor.

_Something's terribly wrong here . . ._

The beam of light floated over a hole in the wall, sparking an idea in Tola's head.

_Maybe it was the bounty hunter. The last time I saw him on the cameras, he wasn't far from this spot. He must have gotten into a battle here._

Momentary relief flooded through him but there was still one thing that didn't add up: all the signs of a struggle were present except there were no wounded or dying.

Then his light ran across a reinforced duranium hatch on his right. The pit of his stomach twisted, and a cold sweat formed at his brow. The door had been bisected, from top to bottom, too smoothly to be from anything but a lightsaber.

_I have a bad feeling about this . . ._

"I think we need to leave," Tola whispered to the alien.

"Shut up, we're here," the Massassi replied, turning to the large door on their left. "Turn off that light."

Tola hesitated. Whatever they were getting into was much worse than the eight guards he had planned for. But it was too late now; they were already here, and with the life support down, they didn't have much time to work with. Clicking the glowrod off, he steadied his trembling hands on his thighs and took a deep breath.

"All right, I'm ready," Tola said. Stepping forward, he pushed a couple keys on the powered-down console, forcing an emergency override. Hovering his finger over the last button, he looked at his ally. "Are you ready?"

The alien ignored him, and crouched into a ready stance. Tola pushed the last button and watched as the brute pounced into the room.

Though fear racked his body, Tola ran in after the alien, expecting to be shot or run through at any moment. But they were met with no resistance. No soldiers stood guard at the entrance and the more he strained his eyes, Tola noticed he couldn't see any of the flight crew.

"There's no one here," Tola spoke into the darkness.

"Shhh . . .there's definitely someone here. I can feel them."

A cold drip splashed on top of Tola's head. A few seconds later, it happened again.

"What's dripping on me?" Tola mumbled. Pulling his light back out, he shined it into the room.

Tola's heart skipped a beat as he took in the horrific scene. Blood spatter coated the walls like fresh paint. Soldiers lay dead on the ground and the lifeless commander was slumped in his seat.

Tola darted the light across the room until it froze on a pool of blood at his feet. Thick crimson drips covered his arms. Slowly, Tola raised the glowrod until it shined directly above him. There, laying on a box light hanging from the ceiling was a crew member. Blood trickled down his arm, across his hand, and dripped from his finger.

Then, from within the darkness, someone started to clap.


	17. Chapter 17

Terrik quickly scanned over the supply closet. A few poison grenades were on the table next to him, but they would be useless against the droids. No other weapons were nearby.

_Gotta think fast if I'm gonna get out of this alive._

His heart racing, Terrik turned around just as the first HK unit was entering the chamber. Without warning, he pressed his blaster rifle against the door controls and fired. The mechanism blew in a shower of sparks, sending a security override into place designed to contain reactor leaks and keep explosive chemicals from spreading. The durasteel door, regardless of what its sensors read was in the way, slid shut, slamming sideways into the droid entering the room and pinning it against the wall.

Metal strained against metal, but the HK unit couldn't break free from the reinforced door. Terrik jammed his rifle against one of the few vulnerable joints in the assassin droid's armor: its neck. Squeezing the trigger twice, he put it down for good. With his other hand he plucked two fragmentation grenades from the droid's weapon canisters and tossed them through the tiny opening above its head where the door couldn't quite seal. The grenades blew, and he heard a second shower of sparks as the other HK unit was destroyed.

Sweat poured down Terrik's forehead. He took in a few deep breaths to calm his pounding heart and still his tensed muscles

_That was_ _way_ _too close_.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Terrik turned around to look for an emergency exit. His trick had worked, but it had also sealed him in the room. To his surprise, however, he found his armor and weapons in a heavy trunk set against the far wall.

_Figures. _Now_ I find them. _


	18. Chapter 18

Dex watched Tola closely as they wound their way through the barren capital ship. Though his intentions seemed genuine, he had seen treachery too many times in his life to lower his defenses. If this man was leading him into a trap, he would be dead faster than he could imagine.

The human shined his light so he could navigate the scarcely lit chambers. Dex had no such trouble. As a Massassi, his senses—particularly his hearing—were far more acute than the humans. Combined with his grasp of the Force, Dex knew there had been a massacre long before he and Tola stumbled upon it.

Still carrying the vibroblade he'd picked up from a fallen soldier, Dex searched the command bridge for the one he'd seen on the security feed: the Sith Lord, Jadus, who had taught him, tortured him, and nearly killed him.

Clapping echoed through the chamber, and Dex looked up to see Jadus perfectly balanced on one of the light fixtures, barely lit by the red emergency lighting. A cruel grin stretched across his face, and Dex suppressed a shudder. The massive, two-meter tall human was clad in thick black armor from that looked as though it had been carved from a creature's carapace. Drops of dried blood marred his attire.

_He hasn't changed one stupid bit._

"You got here faster than I expected, Dex."

Dex snarled. "You don't even deserve to talk in my presence, Jadus."

As soon as the Sith Lord opened his mouth to reply, Dex leapt into the air, his vibroblade swinging in an ascending diagonal slash. Caught off guard, Darth Jadus barely avoided a lethal strike. The blade cleaved through the metal rod holding the unpowered light, and it fell to the floor, shattering the duraplex bulb.

Jadus jumped back and let out a twisted laugh so deranged it seemed to rattle Dex's bones. Dex transformed his fear into anger, dredging up the memory of his last encounter with the psychotic Sith to fuel his command of the dark side. Charging with Force-augmented speed, Dex flew into a deadly sequence of cuts and swipes with his vibroblade. Jadus reacted just as fast, dodging every slash and stab before thrusting out his arm. A wave of telekinetic energy smashed into Dex, hurtling him across the room where he slammed into the wall.

His breath flew from his lungs, and Dex was momentarily vulnerable. But rather than pursue his opponent, Darth Jadus merely cackled once more, like it was all a game to him.

"Now, is this how you greet a dear old friend?" Jadus chastised. "I go to all the trouble of exterminating the command bridge of life so that you and I can meet uninterrupted—the least you could say is 'thank you'."

Dex rose to his feet. "I have no interest in saying _anything _to you."

Jadus smiled. "Still the same incompetent fool, I see. You have no clue how much I've looked forward to this day." Jadus reached to his belt and unhooked the curved handle of his lightsaber. The crimson blade sprang to life, and the Sith Lord crouched in a fighting stance. "Try to make it interesting this time."

Dex ignored the windbag and gathered his command of the Force. Over the last six months he had honed his abilities; he was much stronger than the last time he faced Jadus—he even had a few techniques the Sith Lord didn't know about. Stretching out with the dark side like deathly fingers, Dex surrounded Jadus in a fog of his will.

Nothing happened.

The Sith Lord gave a low chuckle. "I said make it _interesting._ Instead you come at me with cheap parlor tricks. If this is the best you can do, I'll skip forward to the crescendo of our relationship . . . I told you I would cut out your hope one day. I'll just have to start with your flesh."


	19. Chapter 19

Tola studied the situation. He was trapped with two savage killers, they were running out of air, and most of the ship's power was cut off.

_Wonderful._

But there were still some positives: The alien, Dex, as he'd been called, was on Tola's side . . . so far. And the most essential programs of the vessel still had power. This allowed the red disaster lights to flash and the emergency override capabilities on the doors to function so the crew could still move freely throughout the _Scourge_.

"Two hours of life support remaining," the alarm blared through the speakers. "Two hours remaining."

Time was running out, and they weren't any closer to restoring the oxygen. Tola looked at the two men staring each other down. Jadus was big, but his size still paled in comparison to the Massassi's. That wasn't what set Tola's stomach on edge, though. It was his demented eyes. The yellow irises held a crazed look, as if all traces of humanity had been replaced with a wild hunger for the kill.

"Dex, I see that you have a score to settle, but it's going to have to wait," Tola said. Dex shot him a glare that could freeze his blood solid, but Tola ignored it. "I'm sorry, but we're all going to be dead if we don't restore power to the life support."

Darth Jadus snorted. "I didn't know you were traveling with fluffy little girls," he said to Dex. "You truly have grown soft. Honestly, it's probably best that I kill you now; you've become such a disappointment."

Tola could see the rage burning in Dex's eyes. Jadus was goading him, and if Dex wasn't careful, he might lose all rational thought. His hatred was tittering dangerously close to the edge.

_I've got to stop this before things get worse._

An idea popped into his head. Sprinting to the dead commander, Tola pulled his lifeless arm out of his lap and touched the comlink on his sleeve.

"Repair the life support, lieutenant. I repeat, repair the life support," Tola said with a cough, trying to mask his voice.

"What's wrong with your voice, sir?"

"The lack of oxygen is getting to me. Hurry up and get the life support back online."

"Certainly, sir. What's the code?" came the reply.

Tola's heart sank. A verbal code was the one thing he couldn't slice. He looked at Dex, hoping he might have an idea. But the alien's gaze never strayed from his target.

Suddenly, Jadus began to laugh. It was a warped laugh as deranged as the feral look in his eyes, causing Tola's stomach to turn. With his gaze still on Dex, the Sith Lord slowly reached out his arm toward Tola.

Without warning, Tola lifted off the ground, floating in mid-air. Jadus twisted his hand and Tola started to spin in place, picking up more and more speed until he was sure he was going to pass out.

_I should never have taken this job,_ Tola thought, his heart pounding in his chest.

Jadus stopped, then squeezed his hand into a fist.

Tola let out a feeble gasp as his bones slowly compressed like a five tonne shuttle was being set on top of him.


	20. Chapter 20

Donning his customized crimson and white armor was like being back in his own skin. As Terrik checked his weapons, however, he recalled that he was low on ammunition and fuel for his jet pack. He would have to watch that.

Switching his helmet's view to night-vision, the powerless room lit up in a bright green tint. His trick with the door may have saved his life, but it had also sealed him in the tiny supply closet.

Scanning his surroundings, he found nothing to aid in his endeavor.

_No choice. I have to use it if I want to get out of here._

Terrik aimed his left gauntlet at the durasteel door blocking his escape and fired. A beam of energy sprang forth, vibrating the target's molecules so quickly it obliterated the bonds holding its constituent atoms together. The weapon—dubbed the disruptor beam—was outlawed on every planet, and with good reason: the vibrations produced an unstable resonance as likely to kill the user and any bystanders as the target.

Terrik's armor had been specifically shielded to protect the wearer from the pulse wave generated by the blast, but even though he was using a miniaturized, less powerful version of the weapon, the beam still had the potential to shred _his_ molecules in addition to the door's.

The durasteel door blew apart in an instant, and the pulse wave thrown out hurled Terrik back against the wall hard enough to dent the metal. His head reeled from the impact, and he knew without his ablative protection he would never have survived the blast. A queasy feeling overtook him. Vision blurring, Terrik fought the urge to vomit and lost.

Removing his helmet, he took a moment to collect himself amid the discordant energy still trickling through the air.

_Remind me never to do that again . . ._

After cleaning out his helmet with a towel, Terrik sealed his armor in place and rose to his feet, marching into the adjacent hallway. An alarm blared over the speakers, reminding the crew they only had two hours left of breathable air.

_If the alarm is working, the emergency power must still be running. Good, I'll need it to open the hangar and get off this piece of paradise._

Terrik stopped as a haunting thought struck him. Checking his chrono, his suspicions were confirmed; the countdown he'd initiated still showed three hours and six minutes of oxygen remaining, not two.

_We're losing air much faster than the computer's projections._

Using his chrono, he reconfigured the calculation using the new variables. His chrono still read two hours left, but he was losing nearly two seconds for every one that ticked by.

_No time to waste,_ he thought with a grimace. While his helmet had several filters to protect against poisonous gases, it contained no spare oxygen tank. But Terrik knew where he could find one: the ship's bridge. Spare space suits were always kept on the bridge in case personnel were cut off from the rest of the ship. It was also where he needed to go to unlock the hangar bay. From there he could steal a ship and escape the Varrcaran wrath.

Luckily the bridge wasn't far. It took less than five minutes to reach it, but there was even less lighting on the command deck than the rest of the _Scourge_. Only with his night-vision was he able to see the array of computer terminals and angular nose of the capital ship's bow. But neither that nor the assortment of corpses drew his immediate attention. No, it was the two warriors locked in melee combat, hacking and slashing at one another.

Terrik's visor instantly attached a name to each of them—obviously the Republic knew of both to have them on file. The first was Dex, the Bionic Massassi he had fought down on the planet they still orbited. The second was a Sith Lord human named Darth Jadus, with a bounty more than five times the price of Dex's.

_Force users._

If there was one thing Terrik despised, it was Force users. Raising his rifle, he prepared to kill them both with one shot from his grenade launcher when he noticed a third person in the room, suspended in the air. No name or information showed up for this hooded figure but Terrik recognized him as the one who freed him from the cell.

_One of those Force users is crushing him, _Terrik realized. _But which one?_

Firing the grenade launcher was no longer an option; the explosion would destroy all three individuals. As much as he wanted to kill both Force users at once, he couldn't turn his back on the man who'd helped him—his honor outweighed his hatred.

"Dex . . . help," the man gasped.

The plea surprised Terrik; he didn't think a Dark Jedi would help _anyone_.

Taking a closer look, he saw that Jadus was fending Dex off with one hand, an arrogant smile covering his features while his other hand telekinetically crushed the computer expert.

Now that he was sure of the situation, there was only one thing to do—Terrik peppered Jadus with blasterfire. The Sith Lord dropped hold of his prey to deflect the bolts with his lightsaber, but the barrage came too fast for him to block them all. Two of the bolts smashed into his chest, causing Jadus to stumble back from the impact.

_He took those blaster bolts like it was nothing, _Terrik thought in disbelief. _His armor is even stronger than mine._

Darth Jadus leapt into the air and landed atop a light fixture, pausing to gather the Force. For a brief instant Dex was wide open for a shot. Terrik fought his instincts to put the alien down for good, knowing it would take all three of them to stand against Darth Jadus.


	21. Chapter 21

Rage filled every fiber of Dex's being. He was starting to realize he was outmatched, and that made him hate Jadus even more. Worse was the fact that Jadus had realized it, too, and he was intentionally goading Dex with that knowledge.

The Sith Lord leapt onto one of the narrow light fixtures, and Dex followed him up, completely disregarding the bounty hunter who'd just arrived. Dex lashed out with an aggressive sequence of strikes with his vibroblade, glad that the Varrcaran Regime had lined all of their blades with cortosis to resist lightsabers in their struggle against the Jedi and Sith. Jadus smoothly parried the blows while maintaining a perfect balance on the metal support beams.

"You're an awfully slow learner," Jadus taunted, warding off another slash. "Do I have to beat you with my off hand just to show how worthless you are?"

Dex ignored the lunatic's provocation and moved closer, bit by bit, closing the gap between them. He knew he couldn't win in a duel, but there was still one trick that could give him the upper hand . . .

_Now!_

Dex saw his opening and lunged. His palm connected with Jadus's armored forearm. His genetically modified control of the Force flowed through him as he attempted to detonate his enemy's arm.

But nothing happened.

That's when Dex noticed Jadus's black armor was identical to the kind worn by his torturers years ago, making the wearer immune to Force powers. A cruel smirk crossed Jadus's face and he smashed his fist into the Massassi's jaw. Dex felt one of his teeth crack beneath the force of the impact. He lost his balance and fell to the floor, slamming his head against a computer terminal. Stars blurred his vision. The sound of blasterfire filled the bridge, and Dex faintly noticed the bounty hunter shooting his assault rifle.

Jadus cackled sadistically, taking the blaster bolts in stride. "It seems none of you learn quickly." Jadus raised his hand, and the bounty hunter was thrown against the far wall where he toppled to the ground.

Ignoring the pain flaring in his body, Dex rose to his feet and spat on the floor.

"What's wrong, Jadus?" he growled. "Afraid my powers would destroy you if you weren't wearing that armor? I should have known you wouldn't have the guts to challenge me to a fair fight."

Jadus laughed. "We've had a fair fight, idiot. If you remember: I not only beat you—I humiliated you."

Dex snarled. "I'm going to kill you, Jadus. I swear it."

"Enough of this," Jadus hissed. "I think I'll gut you . . . one by one." He reached out his hand and Dex felt his body being pulled toward Jadus's outstretched lightsaber.

"Starting with you."


	22. Chapter 22

Fear gripped Tola's heart like an icy talon. Jadus was stronger than the three of them put together. As the maniacal Sith Lord slowly pulled Dex toward him, Tola desperately racked his brain for a way they could get out alive.

_Dex said Jadus's armor is stopping his Force powers,_ Tola thought. _That's it!_

Jadus let out an arrogant cackle as Dex fought in vain to escape his hold. Dread weighed over Tola like a permacrete mold, but if Dex was to survive he had to act now. Taking a deep breath, he interposed himself between Dex and the Sith.

A look of surprise crossed Jadus's face. Then he snorted. "You'd rather die first? That's fine with me . . ."

"Listen, Jadus," Tola said, "the life support is running out too quickly. If you kill us, you'll suffocate before you can get the oxygen back online."

Jadus shot him a look of scorn. Then, in the blink of an eye, he blurred forward, grabbing the back of Tola's head with his left hand and holding his hissing blade close to Tola's throat with his right.

_Perfect, _Tola thought. _You reacted just like I hoped._

"Your . . . fight is with me, Jadus," Dex managed to croak out, free from his hold.

The Sith Lord ignored him completely, keeping his eyes locked on Tola's.

"You're a fool," Jadus said coldly. "Do you really think I can't make it off this ship in an hour's time?" The damp warmth of his breath against Tola's neck made his skin crawl. "I'm going to enjoy watching the life fade out of you."

Tola let his eyes go wide with embellished fear.

A thin smile crept across Jadus's face, and Tola saw the lightsaber slack a centimeter.

_Here's my chance!_

In one swift motion, Tola palmed the vibrodagger hidden in his sleeve and slashed. Jadus moved with heightened reflexes, leaping back three meters and landing in a crouched position.

Jadus gave a low chuckle. "Tricky. I shouldn't have underestimated you. But as you can see, your little plan failed."

"No, I think my plan worked perfectly," Tola replied. As he said it, Jadus noticed the small gash in his armor. Tola had found a weak point in the shoulder pad, cutting the strap that held it in place. Bare skin was exposed on his left side, and for the first time since Tola had met him, Jadus looked shocked.

"Now, Dex!" Tola shouted. But the alien was already dashing across the room. Dex reached out his hand and tapped Jadus's exposed shoulder before he could recover. A fluorescent blue energy ball formed, growing in size for a split second.

Then it detonated.

The explosion shook the command bridge and sent Jadus flying across the room. He slammed into the durasteel wall and crumpled to the floor.

"Come on, follow me!" Tola yelled to his two new companions. Leading them out of the room, Tola watched as the bounty hunter paused to shoot the panel beside the doorway. Sparks flew, and the heavy cortosis-lined hatch slammed shut.

"Nice thinking," Tola said. "Hopefully that will slow him down."

Suddenly the door began to moan and creak. The edges of the thick duranium plating rippled under heavy stress.

"But, you know, maybe not."

The bounty hunter pushed them forward. "Let's go!"


	23. Chapter 23

This was the first fight Dex had ever run from. He knew it was the smartest decision, but to flee while Jadus still lived was like tearing off his own arm. The only reason he had left at all was because the human, Tola, had saved his life. Only one other person had ever done that for Dex, and she was what mattered most to him.

_I'll kill Jadus another day,_ Dex reasoned to himself. _Maybe I'll just save this human's life once; then I won't owe him any favors._

As they ran through the scarcely lit interior of the _Black Scourge_, Dex made sure to keep a careful watch on the bounty hunter. That man had nearly killed him on the planet below, and he was responsible for the Regime capturing him again. The one thing keeping Dex from breaking the man's neck was that he had helped in the fight against Jadus—and the enemy of his enemy was his friend.

For now, anyway.

"Where to?" Dex asked gruffly.

"The hangar," Tola answered. "Since we couldn't get the life support back on, we need to escape the _Black Scourge_ as fast as possible. It's a long way from here, but if I remember the vessel's schematics correctly, it should be almost a straight shot."

"What other prisoners are loose on the ship?" the bounty hunter asked.

Tola shook his head. "None that I know of. I only freed you and Dex. How Jadus got loose, I have no idea."

"So, we could be walking into—"

The bounty hunter's words cut off as the emergency lights powered down, casting the ship in total darkness. Reaching out with the Force, Dex felt the other two stop, so he paused beside them. Tola fumbled through his contents and pulled out a glowrod, clicking it on. Walking to the nearest door, Tola punched in the override on the nearby panel.

Nothing happened.

"It's gone," Tola murmured. "All the power's been cut."

_Jadus . . . _Dex thought angrily, his massive hand tightening around the grip of his vibroblade. _As if I need another reason to kill him._

"Lights, doors, electronics—everything?" the bounty hunter asked.

"Everything." Tola turned to look at him. "We're floating dead in space."


	24. Chapter 24

With the engines off and the lights powered down, the _Black Scourge_ was deathly silent. Through his night-vision visor, Terrik peered out a window into the cold recesses of space. The ship was still drifting quietly in orbit around Moaz, with no one the wiser as to what was happening aboard.

None of them spoke as they made their way through the pitch-black corridors, and the only sound he heard was the soft patter of their footsteps against the cold metal flooring.

Terrik had always prided himself on his nerves of steel. He had faced down waves of enemies alone without the slightest trepidation. But right now, trapped in the derelict, powerless vessel with a vengeful, eviscerating Sith Lord, even he was growing scared.

The air felt thinner by the second, making it harder and harder to breathe—which, in turn, made it more difficult to concentrate. He checked his chrono. The countdown showed an hour and thirty-one minutes remaining of their oxygen, but the timer was still going faster than normal. In reality, they had closer to forty-five minutes left.

"Take the next right," the hooded man advised. His glowrod waved back and forth, piercing the gloom in an almost hypnotic rhythm. Somehow, the shifting light in the otherwise black hallway made Terrik even more nervous.

The three of them rounded the corner and stopped. They were at the main power generator. The reactor was nearly twenty meters tall, angled at the bottom like a screwdriver pointed into the ground. Light blue pulses emanated from the spinning power source, maintaining the artificial gravity within the vessel. But with the central computer on the bridge locked out and powered down, there was little more the generator could do for them.

A wide chasm surrounded the reactor on all sides, more than thirty meters deep—easily fatal to anyone who fell in. Designed as diffusion tunnels to vent the excess energy, they were not meant to be traversed. Catwalks had been built for maintenance purposes, but large warning signs were placed across the walkways, cautioning soldiers of the sporadic bursts of energy that sometimes showered the catwalks in electrical sparks.

"There has to be another way," Terrik muttered.

The computer slicer shook his head. "No. The emergency ladder we used to get to this side of the ship is sealed with electronic locks. Without power, I can't get them open. The same's true for the main service doors you used. If we're getting to the hangar, we have to go through here."

_Wonderful,_ Terrik thought._ Another giant pile of good news._

Without a word, Dex moved past them. He pushed aside the warning markers and marched onto the catwalk. Terrik and the hooded figure looked at one another, then at the catwalk, before following behind.

With each step they took, the metal walkway creaked and moaned, as though threatening to collapse at any moment. Gripping both rails, Terrik clenched his teeth and forced himself to keep going. The path wove over and around the generator, but as he drew closer, Terrik realized a section of their catwalk and the one below them was missing, as though something had fallen from a great height and crashed through this very spot.

The computer expert shined his light across the expanse. "That's at least a ten meter gap. Now what do we do?" His voice echoed throughout the chamber.

Dex knelt down at the edge of the chasm as though judging the gap for himself. He took six steps backward, then took off in a sprint, gathering some speed before vaulting through the air, augmented by the Force. The Massassi landed firmly on the other side of the catwalk, one hand down in a crouched position.

_Not bad,_ Terrik thought. _But how does he expect _us_ to get across?_

"Any ideas?" Terrik whispered to the computer slicer.

The man shook his head. "No. If I had my grappling hook we could swing across, but it was confiscated with the rest of my belongings."

Terrik did a quick inventory of his own possessions. His jet pack was the obvious choice, but he was low on fuel . . .

"I should have enough fuel to fly across alone, but together we might not make it . . ." he muttered.

"Then go alone," the computer expert said. "There's no sense in you—hey!"

Terrik took hold of the hooded figure and activated his jet pack. This man had helped him and fought with the courage of a Mandalorian, so there was no way Terrik would leave him behind.

For a brief instant, Terrik was sure they were going to make it. Then, partway over the chasm, his jet pack sputtered and died. Falling at an angle, Terrik reached for the edge of the catwalk . . .

And missed.


	25. Chapter 25

Loralona darted through the valley, careful to keep to the shadows. The six warriors guarding and mutilating her ship, the _Coming Storm_, would be more than a match for her if they saw her approaching. She had basic training in close-quarters combat, but Black Sun had spent significantly more time developing the skills within her to thrive in the shadows. And one of those was patience.

There were two ways to approach a stealth mission: the first was to attack fast and hard, before the enemy had time to react. The second was to patiently cast a blanket of deception, letting the enemy destroy themselves through fear and paranoia. If given the option, Loralona always preferred the latter.

Squeezing in between two rocks, Loralona pulled out one of the six replicators from her bag. The device could imitate any sound within the Black Sun database, a trick she had used countless times before. Scanning the device, she found the creature she wanted. It was a Sleezak—a type of sand burrower indigenous to Moaz that traveled in packs. It was known for toying with its prey for minutes before killing with its two large fangs.

Quietly she pulled out four more replicators and programmed them to the same creature, leaving the final replicator empty. Then she reached for the final trick in her bag.

Taking out a small remote, Loralona pulled her hood up, letting it hang low over her brow, and stepped out into the light of the three moons. If the enemy stayed true to the routine she had studied, one of the guards walking the perimeter would be coming around the boulder momentarily. It all came down to timing. She only had three seconds to pull it off.

Loralona exhaled slowly, suppressing her inner fire again as she drew her knife. The custom blade came to a rounded point rather than the flat edge of a normal knife, perfect for what she had in mind. Honing her senses, she heard the sound of military-grade boots crunching in the desert sand. Instinctively she pushed the button.

A surge of power pulsated through her cloak. The stealth field generator granted the chameleon effect, blending her in with its background. But because of the large energy output, her device only lasted three seconds, and needed to be recharged at home base before it could be used again.

The soldier, carrying a high-powered rifle, came around the corner, walking directly toward Loralona. If she moved, her background would change, causing her to stick out. So she remained motionless, counting the seconds down in her head. In two steps he was within arm's length of her.

The soldier paused, looking crookedly in her direction.

"Wait a min—"

Loralona didn't let him finish his sentence. Springing forward, she drove her knife deep into the base of his neck—one of the few areas unprotected by armor. He slumped to the ground, fatally wounded.

_Now it's time to go to work._

Kneeling beside the dead soldier, she pierced another hole into his neck five centimeters beside the fatal blow, imitating two large fang marks. An expert would be able to spot the differences between her special blade and the creature's fangs, but she doubted these Varrcaran grunts were that clever. Loralona took the final replicator and set it to emulate a man's scream, burying it beneath the Varrcaran warrior.

Slinking back into the shadows, she made her way around the camp, keeping a watchful eye out for the remaining guards. At each stop she buried one of the replicators in the sand, only a couple centimeters from the surface.

_All set. Now to find a good spot to watch the camp unnoticed._

Stopping behind another large boulder, Loralona relaxed her coiled muscles. Her plan hinged on the enemy being in a certain mindset—an uneasy mindset—for it all to work. Tuning into the conversation of the men around the campfire, she waited to hear her opportunity.

"Once we're done with this piece of junk, we've got another ship to dismantle before we can leave this miserable little planet," one of the soldiers said. Anger flared within her at the man's off-handed remark about her ship, but Loralona quickly reined it in.

"Really? Where at?" the other soldier asked.

"Two kilometers northwest of here."

"Maybe it'll actually have something of value."

"Maybe," the first soldier said. "But probably not. These people are scum-suckers, after all. They think a loaf of bread is pure gold."

The two soldiers laughed. It was all Loralona could do not to end their laughing for them, but she had a plan, and was sticking to it.

To her right, she saw the soldier that had been walking the perimeter head for the campfire. When the two warriors desecrating her ship saw him coming, they joined him.

"Have you guys seen Ghent?" the man asked, checking his rifle. "I haven't seen him for the past fifteen minutes."

"That's odd. Maybe he's finding a spot in the sand to water."

"I don't know, check the radio," another said.

"But the commander gave strict orders for radio silence. Only if there was an emergency."

"This could be an emergency. Call him in," the last soldier ordered. The one holding the rifle nodded, and then touched his helmet.

"Ghent, come in . . ."

The men waited, but no reply came. They looked at each other, none of them knowing what to say. A thin smile crept across Loralona's lips.

"Ghent, I said come in. Report immediately, soldier."

Loralona let the silence grow. Five seconds, ten seconds, until it hung over the five soldiers like a heavy cloud.

Then she activated the first replicator.

A blood-curdling scream echoed across the valley. The warriors jumped, taking a full second to recover before one of them spoke.

"It's Ghent, we have to help him!"

All five men sprinted from the campsite. Loralona stalked them in the shadows, letting the first four pass beyond striking distance. As the final soldier ran by, she pounced, silently driving her knife into the base of his neck twice, as she had done before. He crumpled to the ground and she darted to her second position, unnoticed.

Loralona took a deep breath and tried her best to calm herself. Adrenaline was coursing through her veins, but right now she needed to stay in control—precise and honed. She closed her eyes and listened for her enemy.

"He's dead!" one of the soldiers shouted, having reached the body.

"What happened?" another asked. "I've been walking perimeter for the last four hours and haven't seen a single person."

"I don't think a person did this . . ."

"What do you mean?"

"See those two punctures in his neck? Those look like fang marks to me."

"Tell me you're not thinking it was a Sleezak."

"I _hope_ I'm wrong."

"Hey, guys," came a fourth voice. "Where is Beodine?"

"I thought he was right behind us!"

_There! Time for phase two, _Loralona thought to herself. She reached to her side and set off the second replicator, the one only a few meters from the soldiers. A deep, bellowing call lingered in the air several seconds before twisting into a high frequency shriek.

The soldiers paled. "It's Sleezaks! Run!"

Loralona heard their heavy boots clawing through the sand as they neared. The soldiers stopped at the second body only to examine his neck, then sprinted on.

Right past Loralona.

She sprang on the soldier trailing slightly behind. With two quick thrusts in his neck, he died before he could utter a word.

The remaining three made for the desert. But Loralona wasn't done yet. She set off the third replicator, several meters in front of them. The ominous sound of the Sleezak rumbled from the ground, corralling the soldiers back toward the campsite.

Loralona waited patiently, herding them back and forth between the hidden replicators like a flock of sheep heading to slaughter. As they ran past her position again, she pounced on the soldier with the rifle, killing him quickly before the others could notice.

The final two men climbed onto a boulder, standing back-to-back. A nervous tic overtook them and they looked around wildly. They drew their vibroswords, ready to make a last stand against a monster that was only in their minds.

_Or perhaps the monster is real. They just don't know what it looks like._

It was a role she didn't mind undertaking after seeing these same warriors kill countless innocent people the day before.

_I'm just taking out the trash._

Loralona picked up the dead soldier's rifle and sighted in. Two loud shots echoed across the valley and the final two soldiers crumpled to the ground.

The battle was over, and not a moment too soon. The temperature was dropping rapidly. Much longer out in the cold and she wouldn't be able to move her fingers. Loralona recovered her replicators and jogged to her ship, climbing inside to survey the damage.

All it took was a glance for her to realize she wouldn't be able to put it back together. Vital components had been carelessly ripped free, severing cords, wires, and mechanisms she needed to fly her ship home. The flames of her anger grew. A hundred memories of the _Coming Storm_ flashed through her mind—the ship was something very dear to her, but now it was little more than an empty shell.

Loralona bit her lip. She couldn't stay here—not with a capital ship still in orbit around the planet. They would undoubtedly send a regiment to investigate the soldiers' disappearances, and she wouldn't be able to handle them all.

_Wait. Didn't the soldiers say there was another ship northwest of here?_

Right now it was her only hope of escape. Grabbing an extra coat and gloves, Loralona bid her last farewell to the _Coming Storm_, and set out.


	26. Chapter 26

Tola held his breath as the bounty hunter's jet pack sputtered and died. Their momentum halted and Tola felt his body go weightless for a moment before they plummeted. His ally desperately reached for the edge of the catwalk only to come up short by a few centimeters.

Picking up speed, Tola felt a scream escape his lips.

"Hold on!" the bounty hunter shouted.

Tola's arms were already wrapped around the armored man, but now he clasped his wrists so tight he could feel his own fingernails digging into his skin.

Suddenly the bounty hunter lurched to a halt. Tola slipped down the sleek armor and barely caught himself on the warrior's boots. He looked up and saw his ally clinging to a second catwalk, nearly twenty meters off the ground and running diagonal to the ledge above.

The bounty hunter grunted. "Quick, climb up!"

Tola wasn't the strongest guy around, but he could handle his own body weight. Bit by bit, he climbed up the bounty hunter and pulled himself onto the cool, corrugated durasteel of the catwalk. As soon as he was firmly on the catwalk, Tola reached out and helped the Mandalorian up as best as he could. The bounty hunter flopped onto his back, and they both took a second to catch their breaths.

Tola couldn't believe it. This man had risked everything to get him across the chasm. He had never expected a bounty hunter to make such a sacrifice.

"Are you two done napping?" Dex yelled down from above.

"Yes," the bounty hunter replied as he pushed himself to his feet and reached out a hand to Tola. "Let's go."

Tola pulled himself up. "Listen, thanks for—"

The bounty hunter held up a hand to stop him. "We'd better get going. By the way, that wasn't a very manly scream back there."

Tola cleared his throat. "What are you talking about? That was as manly as they come!"

" 'Fraid not, human," Dex echoed from above.

Tola opened his mouth to protest but they didn't give him time. The armored warrior pushed past him and ran down the suspended walkway. Ten meters above, Dex started running too. Tola shook his head and followed suit.

_It wasn't _that_ girly_ . . .


	27. Chapter 27

It was the vacancy that bothered Dex. The stillness, the . . . emptiness of such a massive ship he found unsettling. Not long ago there had been soldiers in almost every room. Now they had all vanished. It reminded him of his years in solitary, contained apart from everyone else in an inky black void.

True, no personnel would be stationed in the reactor room, but even on the way here he hadn't heard or seen even a single sign of life from the rest of the ship. No comm chatter or the pounding footsteps of a unit marching through the corridors. No attack ships screaming outside or requesting permission to board.

It was as if Jadus had somehow gotten them all.

Dex shook his head. Paranoia was starting to get to him. He and Tola had counted more than seventy guards still aboard, and there was no way Jadus could have killed everyone in the time it had taken them to travel through that emergency hatch.

A tremor pulsed through the Force. Then the faint smell of blood hit Dex's nostrils—the rotting stench of decay he'd come to associate with one man.

Darth Jadus.

He was following them, Dex could tell. As much as he wanted to turn around and fight, time was too critical right now; it was already becoming difficult to breathe, and they would need every second possible to force the hangar doors open and steal a shuttle in time.

A beep echoed from somewhere within the cavernous chamber. Somewhere close. Dex searched his black jacket and found a small comlink hidden in his pocket. Below him the other two stopped to listen.

"Hello, Dex," came Jadus's snide voice over the transmitter.

Dex felt the dark side stirring within him. This man was like a demon, plaguing him no matter where he went or what he did.

"Nothing to say? I hope you don't mind that I slipped this in while you were frantically sputtering for your life. I just wanted to let you know I'd be there soon. And for you Dex," Jadus snickered, "I'm going to crush your organs one by one, starti—"

Dex squeezed his hand into a fist, smashing the comlink.

_Chew on that, you luna—_

He stopped as another sound echoed loudly throughout the chamber: a sharp chorus of metal straining and twisting. Dex wheeled around. Jadus was using the Force to telekinetically forge a walkway over the chasm with metal stripped from across the room.

Dex's eyes lit with fury. Jadus could easily jump the ten meter gap—this was purely to flaunt his command of the dark side.

"What's that sound?" Tola asked from the catwalk below. The groaning metal left a heavy, eerie feeling in the air.

"Nothing," Dex replied. "Absolutely nothing. Let's keep moving." He squeezed the catwalk's railing as hard as he could, venting some of his frustration before turning back around and breaking into a sprint.

_Soon, Jadus. _

Minutes later, the catwalk ended at the opposite side of the reactor room, spilling out into three adjacent corridors.

_Which way?_

"Dex! Take the left path," Tola yelled from below. "Follow it to the end, and you should be at the hangar. We'll meet you there."

Dex unsheathed the vibroblade strapped to his belt. He had a feeling he was going to need it.


	28. Chapter 28

Terrik lived and breathed by his code of honor. As a Mandalorian, nothing was more sacred. He was sworn to fight to the death for his clan members, and they would do the same for him, without hesitation.

But to Terrik, Jadus was not a warrior on the battlefield; he was a butcher. Symbolic of the worst someone could fall to, he was little more than a raving animal, not worthy of respect, and retreating from him brought no loss of honor.

At long last they exited the reactor chamber, a deep cackle echoing behind them. The computer expert shined his light back and forth between the corridors.

"Which way?" Terrik asked.

"Turbolifts are offline, so we need to find a stairwell to go one floor up."

"Follow me," Terrik said, spotting a sign to their right.

As they bounded up the stairs, Terrik felt his head starting to spin. He stumbled once and placed a hand against the wall to maintain his balance. The oxygen deprivation was already affecting his motor skills.

_We need to get out of here, fast._

"Are you all right?" the computer slicer asked.

"Yeah, just give me a second," Terrik muttered. He closed his eyes and tried to relax his addled mind.

Pressing forward, he heard blasterfire erupting from the main hangar. Cries of anguish followed almost simultaneously.

_I hope that's not more trouble waiting for us. We're cutting this down to the wire._

Terrik and the hooded figure entered the hangar to find Dex waging a one-man war against the troopers still stationed inside. The massive room was pitch black—Terrik knew from experience that the Varrcaran helmets weren't equipped with night-vision, giving Dex a huge advantage—but he was still greatly outnumbered.

Chambering his last power pack, Terrik rested his rifle on the hand railing and sighted in. He counted seven soldiers still alive, most on the far end of the room from Dex, hiding behind crates. They were blindly shooting at any noise.

"Get down," Terrik whispered to the computer slicer.

He fired six shots, dropping as many soldiers. The last turned and sprayed a volley of blasterfire wildly across the room before Dex ended his life with a slash of his vibroblade.

Terrik breathed a sigh of relief.

_Now we just have to find a way to open the hangar door and—_

"Naomi?" the hooded man said suddenly, leaning forward.

Terrik followed the man's gaze but there was no one in that direction. "What are you talking about? There's no one there."

The slicer blinked a few times, then shook his head. "Nothing. Never mind."

Terrik paused. _Was he hallucinating?_

Checking his chrono, he saw that forty minutes remained on the timer, but it was still incorrect.

_How much oxygen does that leave us? Twenty minutes? Fifteen? _

"Get over here!" Dex roared. "We need to pick a ship!"

Three vessels were docked in the hangar, all of which looked to be in good condition. Terrik and the slicer ran over to Dex when a tremor suddenly shook through the hangar. The Mandalorian lost his balance and toppled over. Metal screamed and moaned as it was forcibly ripped from the walls around them.

_. . . He's here._


	29. Chapter 29

Tola shook his head. He could have sworn Naomi was just standing in front of him, but he had been hallucinating all along. She had seemed so real, like he could reach out and touch her. An odd mixture of feelings stormed within him for his only friend in the galaxy.

_Yet the last time I saw her . . . _

Tola forced Naomi from his mind. His time with the Exchange had taught him how to effectively bury those memories, and he was an operative for the Republic now, anyway. Only in a time like this—with his mind starved of oxygen—had he let himself dwell on the past.

The last soldier in the room fell to Dex's blade. Now the three ships in the hangar were completely unguarded.

"Get over here!" Dex yelled. "We need to pick a ship!"

Tola and the bounty hunter sprinted down the stairs and past the crates to the Massassi. But before Tola could examine the ships, the hangar started to shake. Metal tore away from the walls like flimsi, leaving only a ribbed exoskeleton.

Without hesitating, Tola darted to the nearest ship.

"Come on!" he shouted.

The ramp at the back of the shuttle was only a couple meters away. The other two caught up quickly, step for step with Tola. His foot hit the diamond plated slope, and he stooped low, readying himself to dive inside.

Suddenly the ramp snapped shut like a vornskr's jaw. Tola slipped and landed on his back beneath the shuttle's cockpit.

The ship started to moan. First the wings rippled, then the nose crumpled, showering the ground with transparisteel from the windows. The stabilizers snapped and the ion engine collapsed. It looked as if someone was wadding the vessel up like a piece of flimsiplast.

Reacting on instinct, Tola barely rolled out of the way before the ship crashed into the ground.

"Tsk, tsk," a dark voice filled the room at a paranormal volume. "Now, Dex, did you honestly think I was going to let you and your friends leave without saying goodbye?"


	30. Chapter 30

The sound of Jadus's voice made Dex's blood boil.

_It's never going to stop. He'll pursue me to the edge of the galaxy if he has to._

Dex turned away from the crumpled heap of a ship, his eyes falling upon one of the slain soldiers. Clipped to his belt was the very thing Dex needed: a shock whip.

Dex stooped down and picked it up. The weapon wasn't as powerful as a lightwhip, and the handle was heavier than he was used to, but it still felt reassuring to have his most practiced type of weapon back in his hand. Jadus appeared at the hangar's entrance, resting his hands on the railing above them.

Dex activated the electrical currents running the length of the whip, turning it a deep shade of red. With his other hand he clenched the grip of his vibroblade.

_This ends now. One way or another._

"We don't have time for this," Tola whispered, heading for the second ship.

With a flick of his wrist, Jadus telekinetically tore off the wings, disabling all but one of the vessels. An unsettling smile crept across his lips. "Make time. I insist."

Jadus jumped over the railing, landing on the floor only three meters from where they stood. Tola recoiled at the sound, and Dex remembered he was the only one who couldn't see or feel what was happening through the black gloom.

"I've got an idea," the bounty hunter whispered. "Think you two can hold him off without me?"

_Yeah. That should be no problem,_ Dex thought. Anger surged through every fiber of his being, fueling the dark side of the Force. This was the man who had tortured him, mocked him, and tried to kill him repeatedly. If anyone deserved to die, it was Darth Jadus.

Channeling the Force within him, Dex sprinted forward, his whip screaming toward his enemy. Jadus leapt into the air, somersaulting over Dex. With his left hand the Massassi brought his vibroblade up, trying to skewer Jadus in mid-air. The Sith Lord deflected the strike with his lightsaber and landed behind him. Dex spun around, using his momentum to deliver a powerful horizontal swipe, one that would have cleaved Jadus in two, but a mighty gust of of the Force hurled Dex backward, causing his blade to miss by mere centimeters.

Taking a second to focus, Dex stretched out with the dark side, trying to target the one gap in Jadus's armor to induce his mind with hallucinations. But Jadus was moving too quickly for Dex to get a lock on such a small target.

The psychotic human responded with a flurry of slashes and jabs, his red lightsaber moving so fast it seemed to bend and curve. Jadus was utilizing the pure aggression of Form IV, focusing on an overwhelming number of strikes rather than on power or precision. Using both weapons, Dex parried, twisted, and dodged, struggling to survive against the onslaught of strikes.

But Dex still had one thing going for him: Time. Jadus employed so much energy in his fighting style that he would quickly tire out. If Dex could hold him off long enough, Jadus would be too fatigued to stop him.

That is, if Dex didn't run out of oxygen first.

Dex pivoted a hair too far on his next dodge. He avoided a lethal swipe, but he couldn't evade the roundhouse kick that followed, smashing him backward. The Massassi flew across the hangar and crashed against the far wall. Recovering as quickly as he could, Dex reached out with the Force to survey the battle. The bounty hunter was using his computerized gauntlet, Tola was sneaking through the darkness, and Jadus . . . for the first time, Dex noticed what was so unusual about the Sith Lord's armor.

It was alive.


	31. Chapter 31

Loralona raced up another sand dune, her legs churning at full speed, but because of the terrain she only gained a little at a time. The stinging in her lungs worsened each time she gasped in the frigid night air, causing her to cough and wheeze. Her legs felt like noodles, but she pushed on. If she didn't make it to the abandoned ship soon she would freeze to death.

Cresting the dune, she saw the ship nestled between two large boulders. The Varrcaran scum hadn't made it to this vessel yet, so it was completely intact. The ship was twice the size of the _Coming Storm_, and the word "Retribution" was scrawled across the side. Surprisingly the ramp was open.

Normally Loralona would approach a situation like this with extreme caution. A lifetime under the Varrcaran Regime had taught her that nothing was as good as it seems. But she didn't have time for caution. Not now—with her legs shaking and her feet numb, she felt like she was running on flimsy crutches.

Darting down the dune—with a wave of sand in her wake—she sprinted across the valley and to the ship. Without hesitation she ran up the ramp.

To Loralona's surprise, the ramp snapped shut behind her. The dull glow of the ship's lights flickered once, then shut off completely. Instinctively, she reached into her bag and pulled out a small glowrod and clicked it on.

Her ankles had already disappeared in a fog of mist creeping in from the ventilation system. Dread formed in the pit of her stomach as the haze crept up her body. When it reached her neck, she took in one last big breath . . . possibly her last.

Loralona sprinted to the cockpit. A motion sensor lit up an array of miniature lights all across the dashboard. Taking a seat, she honed in on the dull glow of a computer screen—completely blank except for the word "LOCKED".

Typing as fast as she could, she tried some of the most common passwords: 1234, Password, but the screen didn't move—those blocky white letters grating at her nerves. Her body ached for another breath, and her head felt woozy. After another hopeless attempt at the password, she screamed in frustration and reared back to punch the keyboard.

DEACTIVATING COUNTERMEASURES

EMERGENCY CODE 5E-71

Loralona let her clenched fist fall back to her side. The ship sprang to life. Lights flickered on and the engine roared.

As to what pulled _Retribution_ out of stasis, Loralona had no clue. But it seemed the ship had an emergency errand to attend to.


	32. Chapter 32

Bathed in darkness, the maniacal Sith Lord stood before them with a grim smile and his hooked lightsaber raised. Terrik grimaced behind his helmet. Blaster bolts were useless against Jadus; he was out of grenades, out of fuel for his flamethrower, his bolas empty, and he had only one disruptor shot left. Not to mention the oxygen was nearly depleted.

Things weren't looking good.

But Terrik had one idea left, desperate though it was. Dex launched himself at their combatant, buying the Mandalorian the time he needed to enact his plan. Activating his computerized gauntlet, he remotely accessed his ship, _Retribution_, and started the engines. A small screen appeared in his visor, showing him the vessel's shields, power, and weapons display. With a few minutes to concentrate, he could guide the ship toward the _Black Scourge_. The capital ship's power was still offline, so no weapons would target it, and _Retribution_ would be clear to blast the hangar door open. If he could time it right, he might even be able to take Jadus down with the explosion.

From his peripherals, Terrik saw Dex knocked back with a roundhouse kick. Jadus advanced on him slowly, like a predator stalking his prey.

"How shall I watch you die, alien?" Jadus asked mockingly. "Let your lungs spasm and burn as your brain is slowly starved of oxygen? Or run my blade through your heart?"

_He certainly does like the sound of his own voice. That's okay; just gives me more time._

Dex snarled and ran behind one of the crates to his left.

Jadus only chuckled. "After all this, you think you can hide from me?"

A moment later the crate came hurtling toward the Sith Lord, propelled by Dex's command of the Force. Unable to dodge in time, the crate smashed into Jadus and pressed him against the far wall of the hangar where it exploded in a fiery cascade of orange. Terrik raised his arm to shield his eyes from the blast, amplified by his helmet's night-vision. Between the battle and the oxygen deprivation, it was extremely difficult to focus on guiding his ship. Terrik sucked in another breath of air. It felt thin and ragged against his lungs—he knew they couldn't hold out much longer.

From somewhere within the crackling inferno, Jadus stormed out with murder in his eyes. His armor was ablaze, but the Sith Lord didn't even seem to notice. Moments later, the flames sputtered and died out, unable to survive in the oxygen-deprived ship.

_We probably lost another minute of air just now. Can't waste any more time. _

Jadus raised his arms toward Dex but Terrik forced his gaze away. He had to concentrate.

_Retribution_ entered the vacuum of space, and Terrik allowed himself a smile. Salvation was almost here.

Just then, warning sensors blipped within his helmet, informing him of approaching enemy vessels. Terrik's mouth dropped open in disbelief. A squadron of snub fighters was heading to intercept his craft, and Terrik knew there was no way he could maneuver past the enemy ships remotely.

Their last hope was about to be blown out of the sky.

_That's it, then . . . We're done for._


	33. Chapter 33

Tola crouched behind a crate, unable to move in the near-total darkness. He clutched his glowrod tightly in his left hand, but to use it now would be suicidal.

_Then again, I don't know how much it would really hinder me. It seems Jadus can navigate through the darkness anyway._

Relying on his hearing, Tola listened to the sizzle and hum of clashing crimson blades resonating through the hangar, accompanied by fevered grunts from warriors in the heat of battle.

"After all this, you think you can hide from me?" Jadus's haunting voice called out from the encompassing blackness.

Tola's stomach twisted. It seemed the monster had found him. A flood of emotions washed through him.

_I will not die shriveled up in the corner._

A steady resolve overtook Tola, crushing the shackles of fear. Rising slowly from his position, he decided to face his death like a man.

Suddenly an explosion shook the hangar. Instinctively Tola covered his eyes as a sudden flash of heat blew past him. A figure moved within the sputtering conflagration. Flames crackling on his shoulders, Darth Jadus stepped forth, a look of scorn masking his features.

The life of the fire on and around Jadus slowly choked out—the last flame seemed to reach desperately from the grave before it vanished, leaving Tola in the dark once again.

_Hopeless . . . _

Tola shook his head, refusing to surrender to that line of thinking again. He faced the direction he'd last seen the Sith Lord and started to move through the shadows. Taking a deep breath, he attempted to swallow.

But couldn't.

An icy grip tightened around his throat, lifting him up until his feet dangled in the air. Tola instinctively reached for the arm holding him, but he swung at empty air. A cold realization settled over him: He was caught in Jadus's Force grip.

Tola floated through the air, suspended only by his neck. His head felt like it was going to explode from the mounting pressure, and his lungs ached for air. When his momentum slowed to a halt, Tola saw only the soft red glow of a lightsaber blade. Then he felt the maniac's moist, rotten breath on his face.

"Tell me, how do you plan on getting out of this one?"

Without warning, Tola activated his glowrod, shining it directly into Jadus's eyes. The Sith Lord's retinas contracted and his Force grip faltered. For a split second, Jadus was completely vulnerable. Tola gasped for air, but kept his light trained on the killer.

That close, he got his first good look at Jadus's armor. It was likely the same kind as that worn by elite soldiers of the Varrcaran Regime, the protective plating that nullified enemy Force powers, giving them a huge advantage in their war against the Republic and the Sith. Few beings had ever seen a set of the armor up close and lived to tell the tale. Even on the bridge where they'd first fought, in the faint red light, Tola hadn't been able to pinpoint anything unusual about it. But now he recognized it for what it was: a bioengineered suit bonded to its host.

Having grown up in the Unknown Regions, Tola had seen things most people would discard as myths or spook stories. One such event was many years ago when he still worked with the Exchange: he and Naomi had been tasked with sabotaging a Black Sun compound from the inside. Before they could finish their work, the two of them had stumbled upon an alien prisoner with a sloped forehead and pallid skin. The creature had spoken briefly about its bioengineered equipment, weapons, and armor, though the set Jadus wore looked to be an improved design. Already the strap Tola had cut through earlier had regrown, connecting the plates back to their original position.

_This was what I was tasked with all along, finding a way to counter this armor so the Republic has a chance of winning the war._

All this passed through Tola's mind in a fraction of a second. Then Dex darted into the beam of Tola's glowrod like a wild animal attacking its prey. His vibroblade started from his hip and slashed brutally in a diagonal arc aimed for Jadus's throat.

Microseconds before the blade could reach him, the Sith Lord jumped into the air, backflipping gracefully onto the ramp of the lone remaining ship. Tola followed him with his light, and for the second time since they'd met, Jadus looked a little unnerved.

"Actually," he growled, "I think I'd rather watch you suffocate."


	34. Chapter 34

Dex was stunned. _How could Jadus have survived that explosion unscathed? What does it take to kill him?!_

Gripping his shock whip tighter still, Dex ran up the ramp after him. This was their only hope left of leaving the _Scourge_ alive, and Jadus wouldn't get it without a fight. His whip cracked forward, lashing out at where the maniacal Sith Lord stood in the open hatchway.

Darth Jadus turned and ducked beneath the arc of the whip. The electrically charged currents snapped against the metal sides, searing a gash into the doorway. Dex was about to strike again when Jadus suddenly hurled his lightsaber at him.

The maneuver caught Dex by surprise. At the last second he tried to sidestep out of the way, but the blade carved a thick furrow between his ribs, nearly puncturing his vital organs. Dex cried out in pain and sank to the floor, rolling back down the ramp. His vibroblade and shock whip fell from his grasp, clattering to the metal floor beside him.

Jadus held out his hand, and his hooked lightsaber sprang into his waiting palm. The Sith Lord's psychotic laughter boomed through the pitch-black hangar, and the door to the shuttle sealed behind him.

Dex clutched his side, expecting to feel another wave of fury rise through him. Instead, however, he felt only a deep sense of failure. His lungs ached. His mind felt foggy and clouded, but Dex no longer cared. The one thing he wanted most—vengeance—was about to be lost forever.

He choked down another fleeting breath of air and fell flat onto his stomach. His thoughts drifted to Jezebel, the one person who'd been a friend to him in his entire life. Her face flashed in his mind; her warm smile comforting him one final time.

All of a sudden, vengeance didn't seem so important.

Dex felt himself smile. His side screamed in pain, but he no longer cared. He wished he could thank her. He had always been appreciative of her kindness, but right now all he wanted—more than another breath of air, or even Jadus's fat head on a plate—was to thank her for all she'd done for him.

Dex's eyes closed. Nothing short of a full tank bacta immersion could save him now. He felt his mind drifting into a sleep.

_I guess this isn't such a bad way to go,_ he thought groggily.

Suddenly he felt his body moving. His eyes opened slowly, and he saw that he was being dragged away from the ship. With strenuous effort, Dex swiveled his head to see what was happening.

Tola had grabbed hold of his arm, and though the human weighed far less, he was pulling Dex behind the nearest crates as best as he could, his face a mask of panicked desperation. Dex tried to smile but couldn't.

_Maybe Jezebel wasn't my only friend after all._


	35. Chapter 35

Loralona watched the last of the dioxis venting out of the ship, waited an extra five seconds, then took in a deep lungful of air. The engines of _Retribution_ roared, shooting the vessel skyward and into the atmosphere. She barely had time to sit before the g-forces thrust her back into the chair.

Loralona gripped the sides of the seat only to realize there wasn't anything for her to hold on to. It seemed the chair was designed for a pilot wearing a suit of armor, and the suit connected directly into the seat itself.

A small blue light flashed on the dashboard as she passed the atmosphere and into space. Several kilometers in front of her was a capital ship proudly bearing the Varrcaran insignia. Only . . . something about it seemed unusual . . .

It took her a moment to realize what it was: the engines and power were offline, leaving the dreadnought drifting silently in orbit around the planet. The hull didn't appear to have suffered any damage, either from a collision or a weapon discharge. It was as if the crew had simply . . . vanished.

"Like a ghost ship," she muttered. Loralona hadn't meant for the thought to come out loud.

Turning her attention to the ship's navicomputer, she tried to plot a course back to the Black Sun headquarters when a squadron of snub fighters suddenly veered in her direction. Two green blaster bolts lit the dark void of her cockpit, missing Loralona's left wing by only a couple meters. She whipped her head around and saw two more fighters tailing her.

They'd spotted her.

_Great . . . one thing after another._

She yanked the controls hard to the left, but they wouldn't budge. The ship was still on auto-pilot and she had no way of turning it off. A blast slammed into the hull, and she saw the deflector shield gauge drop to eighty-four percent capacity. Her hands scrambled over every button she could think of that might relinquish its hold.

Nothing worked.

A feeling of despair clawed at her throat as she saw the fighters closing in from behind and in front of her, like two walls crushing her from both sides.

And she was powerless to stop it.

Once more she tried to move the yoke, but the ship defiantly refused.

"Give me control or you'll get us killed!" Loralona yelled in frustration. To her shock, the ship obliged, switching the dark red sensors and gauges to a light green hue. The console clicked twice and the controls relaxed into her hands. For a moment she simply sat there, dumbfounded. Any ship—especially one of this caliber—would be voice encrypted, but for some reason it was obeying her commands.

_Not that I'm complaining._

One of the fighters in front of her let loose a barrage of blasterfire in her direction. The quick response pilot training she had received from Black Sun kicked in, and she veered the vessel safely off to the right. Relentless in their pursuit, the enemy ships followed after her, closing into a tight formation. They had speed and numbers on their side—Loralona had stronger armor and weapons on hers.

_Time to see what this baby can do . . ._


	36. Chapter 36

Each breath was becoming a struggled gasp for air. Terrik's vision blurred, and he faintly noticed the door sealing shut to the shuttle Jadus had entered. Klaxons blared within his helmet, warning of the encroaching fighters on his ship's sensors. Even if he hadn't been on the verge of death, it would have been too difficult to evade them without actually being in the cockpit. Their one chance of escape was about to be blown to bits.

Suddenly a female voice bellowed within his helmet's comlink: "Give me control or you'll get us killed!"

Terrik was stunned. Whether from the lack of oxygen or the sheer absurdity of the situation, it took him a moment to register what was happening: someone had to be inside _Retribution_ for her voice to have been picked up by his comlink.

Knowing his ship would be destroyed if he did nothing, Terrik tapped the controls on his computerized gauntlet, turning off the remote piloting and handing control over to whoever was on board.

Time was running out. By his chrono they had maybe five minutes of breathable air left, so he did the only thing he could of.

"If you can hear this, we're trapped in the dreadnought's hangar!" he muttered to the person flying his vessel. "Hurry!"

Terrik closed the display in his helmet and focused on their surroundings. The hangar doors were being forced open telekinetically, but a thin particle barrier protected them from depressurization, designed to allow solid objects free passage but nothing else. Jadus had nearly escaped, and the computer specialist was dragging the wounded Massassi behind cover.

The shuttle's engines fired up, and its blaster cannons slowly turned toward him. Clenching his teeth, Terrik quickly slid into cover, wishing he still had some grenades for his rifle.

_Either we're blasted into oblivion, or we suffocate in darkness. Perfect end to a perfect day . . . _


	37. Chapter 37

Tola could feel the veins in his neck bulge as he pulled the alien with all his might. The hangar doors were being opened by the Force, but it seemed Darth Jadus was bent on notching a few more kills on his belt before he left. The nose of the shuttle was coming about, lining up the blaster cannons for a shot. Death was around the corner, but Tola refused to let Jadus have the enjoyment of dealing the fatal blow.

Residual light from one of the three moons orbiting Moaz flooded the hangar, casting an eerie silver glow on the aftermath of Jadus's destruction. Tola spotted a large metal crate and dragged the Massassi toward it. They collapsed behind cover, and Tola tried to take in a deep breath to satiate his lungs, but all he got was a burning, stinging sensation from the lack of air.

_We've got cover, but it's not going to do much against those cannons._

Looking around, Tola searched for something to pop the lid off the crate. If he was going down, he was going to try and take Jadus with him, and maybe something inside could help him. Leaning against the crate was a standard issue Varrcaran crowbar. Tola snatched it up and wedged it under the lid.

Then an idea hit him.

He looked at the dull blue ring in the mid-section of the fighter as it turned toward them. The ion engine might be the closest thing to a weakness the ship had. If a long, thin object were to become lodged in the turbine, it may shut down the entire ship.

_Leaving Jadus to suffocate alongside us . . ._

Tola tapped the crowbar once on his off-hand, then drew back and heaved it like a javelin. It spiraled through the air, darting under the cockpit, and barreling toward the ion engine.

And then it stopped.

The silver light danced across the bar as it hung in the air, spiraling surreally. The ship's comm system activated, and Jadus's coarse laughter filled the room. The spinning crowbar picked up speed until the gleam of light on the metal turned into a blur. Then it flew through the hangar at a supernatural speed.

Right at Tola's head.


	38. Chapter 38

Loralona yelled, pulling on the control stick with every fiber of her being. The nose of an enemy fighter was only a few meters in front of her—so close she could see the pilot in the cockpit. Her heart pounded against her chest as she readied herself for impact.

_C'mon! Pull up!_

The enemy ship screamed past her, missing _Retribution_ by mere centimeters.

Her hands shaking, Loralona knew she couldn't stop to catch her breath. Two more fighters were hot on her tail and the third was already turning to join them. The dogfight had been quick and destructive; she'd blown three fighters out of the sky, but her ship was limping at best. Main shields were down to twelve percent, and the enemy had changed tactics. They were willing to do anything to stop her, even a suicide run.

_Honorless scum._

Loralona had one last trick up her sleeve: a weapon she had been saving as a last resort. Her timing would have to be perfect; even the slightest mistake would rip her hull to shreds, killing her in the process.

Loralona took in a quick breath, eyeing the three fighters behind her. _But it's my only chance . . . _

Yanking the control stick hard to the right, Loralona barrel rolled, narrowly dodging two blaster bolts off her left wing. She arched around, allowing the third ship to line up with the other two, trailing close behind her.

_Perfect. Here goes nothing._

Burying the yoke, she nosedived sharply, heading straight for the planet's atmosphere. The enemy fighters followed. Red lights flashed in the cockpit, and a computer voice came on:

"Warning! Warning! At this level of re-entry the ship will be destroyed. Readjust your flight pattern. Warning!"

Drenched in sweat, Loralona watched the monitors closely. The shields were holding off the heat of re-entry, but were draining quickly.

_Ten percent. Nine percent. Seven percent._

The computer beeped, alerting her that one of the fighters had locked on to the vessel.

_Hold on . . . _

_Five percent. Three percent. _

"Now!" she shouted to herself. Pushing a button on the dash, she released a cloud of tachyon particles behind her—a weapon designed to momentarily bind the enemy fighters' steering abilities.

Loralona pulled on the control stick, shaking with the exertion. The ship began to rattle, and she held her breath. After what seemed like an eternity, the turbulence stopped, and the emergency lights kicked off.

She had made it out alive.

Craning her neck, Loralona turned to watch the three enemy ships. Unable to alter their trajectories, the fighters spiraled out of control and burned up in the atmosphere.

A joyous cry erupted from deep within her stomach. She had escaped the jaws of death many times, but never this narrowly.

Once she collected herself, Loralona looked down at the monitor. A gasp escaped her lips when she saw the flashing green letters:

_One percent._


	39. Chapter 39

As Terrik tried desperately to take in another breath of air, his chrono suddenly beeped, indicating their last two minutes of oxygen remaining. His mind began to panic, but no matter where he looked, there was still nothing to save them from suffocating.

Jadus's ship was still in the hangar, mocking them with his life-support and their only chance of survival. It was so close, but so impossible to get to it may as well have been in another system all together.

Seeing the blaster cannons about to fire, the hooded man stood up from behind a crate and hurled a crowbar at the ship's ion engines. The crowbar sailed through the air—then stopped, spinning in place by Jadus's use of the Force. Spiraling faster, the crowbar shot back, straight for the man's head. The computer expert jumped to the side, but the crowbar still caught him in the shoulder, eliciting a cry of pain.

Anger surged through Terrik's veins. It was too late to survive, but he could still take Jadus down with them. Raising his left gauntlet, he took aim and fired his last disruptor beam. The powerful bolt of energy shredded through through the thick armored hull, punching a wide, damaging crack through the lower half of the ship.

Terrik silently groaned. He had been aiming for the cockpit, but the oxygen deprivation had blurred his vision too much for a clean shot. Nevertheless, he tapped his left gauntlet again, pretending to prepare another shot. Jadus seemed to take the bait; without hesitating, the Sith Lord piloted the shuttle out of the hangar bay and into the vast reaches of space. It was impossible to tell how far he got, or how badly his vessel was damaged, but Terrik took comfort in the fact that he may have taken the Sith Lord down with them.

Ninety seconds was all that was left of their air. Collapsing to his knees, Terrik looked at the other two with him in the hangar. They had gone through so much together, fought shoulder to shoulder, and watched each other's backs like true Mandalorians. Terrik never thought he would say this—especially regarding a Force user—but he felt honored to die at their side.

His mind blurred, and consciousness slipped from his grasp.


	40. Chapter 40

Tola watched the twin blue engines grow smaller and smaller until they blurred together like another star among billions. He was relieved that Jadus was gone, but at this point, it didn't really matter. They were all dead, and he knew it.

Looking at his two companions, Tola soaked in the moment. In his years with the Exchange and eventually the Republic, Naomi had been the only one he considered a friend, and she had betrayed him in the end. But these two—in the few short hours they'd known each other, these strangers had grown closer to Tola than anyone else in the galaxy. They had fought and survived together, but it seemed their journey was coming to a cold, desperate end. He saw the bounty hunter collapse to his knees, and a stinging realization hit him like a bag of bricks.

_I never even got his name . . . or gave him mine._

His starved lungs ached, his mind was addled, and his shoulder throbbed, but Tola forced himself over beside the bounty hunter and dropped down beside him. Giving the warrior a knowing nod, Tola looked out over the expanse of space and welcomed the afterlife. It seemed to be poetic justice that he, a loner all his life, was about to die next to a nameless friend and a Massassi he had originally feared, but now deeply respected.

Tola felt a cold tear roll down his cheek just before his world went black.


	41. Chapter 41

Loralona guided her craft around the derelict Varrcaran starship. She had never actually been this close to one of the massive vessels, and even in its powerless state it took her breath away and made her hands tremble. Whoever had called for help was inside, and was most likely the cause of the destruction. She briefly considered leaving, slinking off into the void of space, but decided against it. The owner of this ship had saved her life, then requested her help; the least she could do was return the favor.

_Besides, if they can do _that_ to a Varrcaran starship, it might be good to get on friendly terms with them._

The hangar doors were lodged slightly open, allowing Loralona to guide the ship safely through the narrow channel. The bay looked like a bomb had detonated inside: panels were ripped from the walls and ceiling, crates lay toppled on their sides, and the charred remains of blasterfire peppered the entire bay. In the center of the room were three men—one alien, one human, and one fully armored—passed out on the ground.

Loralona looked at her gauges and saw that the atmosphere wasn't safe. She touched down as close to the men as she could, knowing every second wasted reduced their odds of survival. Slamming the hatch button, she jumped up from the pilot's seat and sprinted to the rear of the ship, donning an oxygen mask on her way.

Two of the three men looked extremely heavy—one because of his size and the other because of his armor. The lightest man lay face down, closest to her, so Loralona grabbed his hands and dragged him up the ramp of the ship. Without taking the time to check his vitals she ran back into the bay, scouring the area for anything that could help her with the two heavier men. Her eyes came across a small repulsorlift, used to move heavy crates into tight corners.

Grabbing the lift, she shoved it under the alien first, hoping the man in the armor might have some sort of oxygen reserves, and glided him into the ship. Loralona dumped the heavily muscled creature beside the human and returned for the last person. Pulling the armored man up the ramp, she shut the hatch and ripped off her oxygen mask. Fresh air circulated through the ship, and she gulped it in, trying to catch her breath.

Loralona wiped the sweat from her brow and knelt down beside the armored man. Twisting his helmet off, she checked to see if he was breathing.

He was.

With a small sigh of relief she shuffled over to the scarlet alien and repeated the process. The alien bore a serious cauterized wound in his side, but both men were still alive; she had arrived in the nick of time.

_One more to check._

Loralona stepped over the unconscious bodies strewn across the ship's floor and grabbed the smallest man's shoulder, rolling him over. Her eyes went wide with shock, the realization of who she was looking at hitting her like a power hammer. Lying before her was the very man she'd been assigned to kill.

_Tola . . . _

He was alive as well.

Reflexively her hand went to the vibrodagger she kept in her boot. In one smooth motion she unsheathed it and held the blade to the man's neck, but something gave her pause. It went against everything Black Sun had taught her, but Loralona couldn't erase the image in her mind of the man's goofy wave after he saved her life from the Varrcaran soldier. She had planned on hunting him down and thanking him before she completed her mission. But with him lying here, so helpless against her blade, it just didn't seem right.

_He was going to die anyway; maybe I should drag him off the ship and let him suffocate like he was about to. _

Loralona lulled the thought over in her mind; somehow it didn't seem as bad. She stepped over the other two bodies and placed her hand over the button to the hatch.

Once more she hesitated.

Her hand hovered there, unable to control the slight tremor in her fingers. Tola seemed nothing like the cold-blooded murderer Black Sun had portrayed him as. Not only had this man saved her life, he had done so without any provocation or expectation from her.

With a begrudging sigh Loralona clenched her hand into a fist and turned away from the door.

Digging into her bag, the assassin pulled out a syringe filled with grayish liquid. She knelt down and stuck the needle into the side of Tola's neck with a little more force than needed. The liquid emptied into her mark's body and a satisfied smirk stretched across her face. This really was the best way. The syringe was full of microscopic nanites, and with a push of a button, her mission would be complete. He'd never know the danger he was in, even once he woke up.

_I'll give this murderer time, _she reasoned._ See what he's really made of. But at the first sign of trouble . . . I'm finishing this._


	42. Chapter 42

Terrik woke with a start, adrenaline pumping through his veins. He instinctively reached for his blaster, but it was gone. The entire room was green, but familiar.

_Wait, why is it green? _

Reaching up to his helmet, Terrik flicked the night-vision mode off and realized where he was . . . _Retribution_! Somehow he was back on his ship!

With a heavy groan Terrik hauled himself to his feet.

But wait, how had he survived?

Cautiously, he sprang the twin serrated tehk'la blades from his right gauntlet as he walked the interior of his ship. The hooded figure was lying on the couch in the main hold. Terrik watched for a moment to make sure he was still alive, and actually breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that he was.

It wasn't like Terrik to have attachments, but the computer slicer and the Massassi had proven their valor many times over on the _Black Scourge_.

_Speaking of which, I still don't know how we made it off the blasted ship,_ he thought.

Terrik carefully made his way through the interior, checking inside every hold as he went. In the medbay he found Dex floating in the bacta tank, his life signs all positive and recovering.

"Don't move," a thin voice said from behind him. A blaster barrel jammed against his back.

Terrik slowly raised his hands into the air, trying to determine the best course of action to take. The voice sounded female, calm and assured, as though this wasn't her first time holding someone at gun-point.

But Terrik was swift. He was confident he could whirl around and knock the blaster from her hands before she pulled the trigger. Even if she did, there was a good chance his Mandalorian _beskar'gam_ would ablate enough of the impact to keep him alive—the barrel felt too small to be anything but a lightweight pistol. And the regenerative cybernetic implant in Terrik's brain would take care of the rest.

Still, the Mandalorian didn't like to take unnecessary risks. Better to gather information first, if possible.

"You were the one who saved us?" he asked, his voice gruff through his helmet.

"Yes. I was piloting the ship when I got your distress call," she clarified. "But that doesn't mean I trust you. Retract your weapon and take off both gauntlets."

"Not going to happen, lady," Terrik replied immediately.

The woman pressed the barrel harder into his back. "I _won't_ ask again," she threatened.

Terrik paused a moment to reevaluate his options. She sounded like a professional. Maybe it _would_ be wise to go along with her.

"I'll retract my blade," he offered. "But my armor stays where it is. I'm not looking to hurt you after you saved my life."

The woman considered this a moment before relenting. "Fine. But just know there are more than ten ways I could kill you right now if you tried anything."

_Unlikely. But I'll play along._

"Where are we?" he asked, changing the subject as he retracted his blades.

"Floating somewhere in the Unknown Regions, far from Moaz and what's left of the _Scourge_," she answered, her voice more calm than before.

"What do you want?"

"I want to see what you're planning. Nothing more."

Terrik was surprised by her answer. He couldn't contain his curiosity. "Why?"

"That's not your concern," she said bluntly.

"Very well. What about—"

"My name is Tola!" the hooded figure suddenly shouted, sitting up on the couch.

The woman glanced quickly at Tola, but didn't make a move.

_Well, that answers who _he_ is,_ Terrik thought. _Now for the woman._


End file.
